


Kingdom Come

by NarrowWoodsWriting



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apocalypse world, F/M, Pre-season 14, Season/Series 13, The Empty (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14406795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarrowWoodsWriting/pseuds/NarrowWoodsWriting
Summary: The angel Castiel is awoken from his slumber in the Empty, and he fights for his release back to Earth. Soon afterward the demon known as Meg gains her own freedom and sets out to find Castiel, wherever he may go. It doesn't take long before Meg discovers that the world is in peril again, and she intends to help Castiel and the Winchesters to stop it.Meanwhile, across dimensions, the walls are coming down. The Empty is unstable, on the verge of total collapse, and in another world torn by apocalypse, Michael has plans to break through realms and rule.And there may be nothing that can be done to stop it.Canon parallel to Season 13 and possibly Pre-Season 14. Mostly adventure with doses of Meg and Castiel. Work in Progress. Also available at kingdomcomefic.tumblr.com.





	1. Sleep

_[The hardest part is letting go of your dreams...](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rEImcyVIGUo)_  
  
It rang like bells through the Empty.   
  
_Castiel._

In the section of the Empty known to it’s keeper as Betwixt slumbering beings shifted.   
  
_Castiel!_

Ears perked up. To so many in Betwixt that name was familiar. Some had been sent there by the angel Castiel. Some had followed him when he was the new God. Some had worked alongside him. One of them had loved him. Something in Betwixt shifted, and the denizens felt a sensation like a bedfellow had gotten up and left the room. There was an odd absence that rippled and rumbled through those beings sleeping there, but most were too deeply under, and they slipped back into nothingness.  The one who had loved Castiel fought the sensation of sinking back into the subconscious of the being that presided over them.  
  
Gedvalorth, Lord of the Empty, slumbered out of necessity. His brand of madness came from existing too long. He enjoyed sleeping because it kept the pain away. The longer he was awake the longer he had to fight the burning that coursed through him. He would have moments of lucidity, but given time he’d slip into hysteria and then into full insanity. He’d be useless, and somebody had to mind the souls here.   
  
The Empty wasn’t _really_ empty, after all. There were innumerable demons and angels there. From the war in heaven to some demons who sacrificed themselves for some greater good he couldn’t fathom, Gedvalorth kept them in their places. The demons received his nightmares. Twisted dreams screamed through their rest in flashes of blood, ichor, violence, and gore. The angels received his fantasies and dreams of flying, skies, colorful gardens, and light.   
  
In the Betwixt, it was different. Angels and demons were both sorted there because some angels had committed atrocities, and some demons had saved the world a time or two, though their numbers were fewer. This grey area was Gedvalorth’s least favorite. While they got both his nightmares and his dreams they were unpredictable. Several times he had prepared a space for Castiel to rest, but God had yanked him back just in time to keep him on the earthly plane. It caused him a lot of restlessness, and driven him close to losing his control.   
  
While the empty was meant to be nothingness, it still was full of the mass of dead angels and demons and needed someone to guard the place. Once, a few millennia ago, those that came to his domain were all awake and they all tried to exist together in a wild new dimension. Keeping the peace was far more than Gedvalorth had been able to handle and he went completely mad. It was then, in a moment of lucid thought that he put all of the residents in a deep sleep and erased everything. He brought back the void that existed before there were angels and demons, and then let himself slip into the drift of all that came to inhabit his world.   
  
As soon as a being entered the Empty they would be lulled to sleep and there they would stay for all eternity, feeding into the dreams of the master of the realm. No one had ever woken up before, until Castiel’s name was heard echoing through a place long without sound nor stir. Gedvalorth cursed that name and all of the anxiety that it had brought him. Soon he felt Castiel’s awareness and Gedvalorth knew that he’d have to address this issue.   
  
“Hello? Hello! Hello? Hello!” Castiel cried out. He wandered around in what looked like nothingness, being followed by the veiled form of Gedvalorth as he wandered trying to find who it was that could have been calling his name. In just moments he would meet Gedvalorth face to face and have a strange exchange with him. Ultimately Castiel would escape, his presence so abrasive to the lord of this place that he would be expelled.   
  
Meanwhile, deep down in darkness the creature that came to call herself Meg had awoken inside a comatose consciousness. Dwelling in Betwixt was strange enough of a fate for her, as she’d never truly considered herself as any bit of good. She’d made a joke about that once before, but Meg didn’t think that the universe would have taken notice of the good deeds she’d done. She’d seen both the good and the bad sides  of Gedvalorth’s subconscious, and she felt like she’d been so still for so long. Then she heard, chiming like a miracle, the name Castiel.   
  
She reached for that name, and she fought her slumber. Her eyes opened but she found that she couldn’t move. She was awake, but immobile. all she could see was pitch. She knew there were others around her, and that they’d mostly all been there forever. Some felt new, but she was in a pool of weariness. It was all she could do just to keep her eyes open, but she was trying.   
  
Whatever passed for her muscles tensed as she fought against the force that was holding her in the place she was. She’d never experienced sleep paralysis, but this was definitely what it must be like. She took one deep, unneeded breath into lungs that were not much more than a concept and jerked upright as she sat up in darkness, only to find Castiel standing before her.   
  
“You,” he said, aghast.   
  
“Yeah, me. What is this?” she asked looking up to see only more darkness.   
  
“This is the Empty, you were in Betwixt, your boyfriend just left. Yada, yada, yada.”   
  
She glared at the entity she now realized only looked like Castiel and said, “He’s not my boyfriend. I’m dead. No boyfriends for dead girls.”   
  
“Sounds like a song. Well, whatever you were, he’s gone. Time to go back to sleep now, sweetheart,” Gedvalorth stretched and yawned before tilting his head too far to the right. His neck gave a sickening pop and he smiled, showing too many teeth. “Do you like lullabies? Or should I break out the bed time tales?”  
  
“I’m not going back to sleep.” She sat herself down with her legs crossed in front of her at her ankles, arms propping her up. “I like this feeling. I want to roll around in it a little. It’s been a while.”   
  
“No, you don’t understand, you cannot be awake now. I can’t handle the...pain,” Gedvalorth said pointing to his head.  
  
“Oh, golly, mister. Then I guess you just have to send me to Castiel then,” Meg purred.   
  
“You and your ilk are more trouble than you’re worth!” Gedvalorth said scratching mindlessly at one part of his arm. “Very well, then. I’ll let _you_ go, but no more! And if you want back in here...You’ll just have to die for it.”  
  
“Trust me, that will be a long, long time from now,” she said standing up and stepping toward him. “There’s no place like home, Toto,” she mumbled. In an instant she was in the Empty and then she was in the real world. She stood in a thicket looking around to try to get her bearings. To her left she saw Castiel trudging off toward a roadway, but she was too far out for him to hear her call to him. In what seemed like a blink he was gone, and she was left staring after the point he disappeared into the opposite treeline.   


———————————————————————  


## Kiss the Void

_[ This place is spinnin', spinnin' around into the void. Feel like I'm bein' pulled into a black hole. This crazy feelin's screwin' with my head. I'm overloadin' and my gauges are red. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bd-GDNJ_1uY) _  


In the Empty most beings were at rest, but Gedvalorth tossed and turned, in and out of sleep. Something was coming. His most pleasant dreams were now wrapped in anxiety, and his nightmares were repetitive loops of inescapable horrors. Gedvalorth was the glue that held the Empty together. The stability of the place was tied directly to his own mental balance.   


In the beginning when Gedvalorth and the Empty had come to be It had just been his own. For what humans would call thousands of years he drifted in the stillness, only him and his dreams. He felt weightless, unfettered, peaceful, and whole. Then they came. Sometimes singularly, sometimes in clusters of hundreds, they invaded his sanctuary. These loud, demanding creatures called themselves angels. They hammered him with questions, they shouted at each other they fought among themselves and they just kept on coming. 

Gedvalorth felt his agitation growing. He found himself prone to hysterical bouts of laughter, then just as suddenly he would scream and lash out in rage at the nearest being to him. The ever present nag of the angels in his realm and his consciousness were breaking him. There was no getting adjusted to the new tenants, and just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, there were new creatures that began to arrive.   


These things were called demons. They were dark and menacing and they snapped and snarled at everything and everyone. They fought with the angels and they fought with each other and they coiled around Gedvalorth whispering torments in his ears. They brought violence and gore into his mind and he began to imagine that he saw these things happening right before his eyes. He saw the terrors that the demons went through in Hell and he saw the pain they caused in this place called Earth. 

In addition to all of the chaos he began to sense the dimensions bordering his own. He began to feel the cataclysms that was impending apocalypse. He could sense it coming from a few thousand years away. It came to him clearly in messages from the angels and the sense he had of impending doom. He could feel the trembling of differing realities, even as his own threatened to shake apart.

The Empty _was_ so close to collapse. The noise was drowning him. Gedvalorth now flowed from catatonic, to shrieking laughter, to roaring anger. He was out of control, and he could feel the Empty, his beloved home, beginning to fray. In a rare moment of clarity, Gedvalorth focused all of his energy on the occupants of his realm and he forced them all into a deep slumber. With the voices all quieted, Gedvalorth now enveloped them in his own subconscious, splitting his pleasant dreams and his horrific nightmares with the demons. Keeping them all separate and sleeping calmed him and finally he drifted off to sleep himself. 

As long as the souls in the Empty slept, he could be at peace and he could dwell within his nothingness in tranquility. More demons and angels entered the Empty, all instantly put to sleep. In his steady state, his curiosity was peaked by the angels that he noticed entering his world who were more wicked than just. He put them in a particular category he called Betwixt. Soon there were a few demons there, too, who had committed some unselfish, kind acts before their deaths. These were even more surprising to him. Still they slept in peace, colorful worlds dancing before them. Sometimes he found it funny that a place called the Empty was, in fact, full. 

That is, until something woke the angel Castiel from his sleep in Betwixt. Then Gedvalorth was forced awake and could feel his calm mind begin to twist. He pleaded with Castiel but in the end he was forced to expel him for the stability of his entire domain. He barely had time to blink before a demon woman had taken advantage of Gedvalorth’s weak moment and woken herself. He let her go almost immediately, and as soon as she was gone he tried to fall back into his dreaming. 

His sleep was shallow, his mind troubled. He was awake enough to sense an upheaval. Someone was tearing realities open and he felt his anxiousness rise. He could see the wave of darkness coming, and though he would manage to slip under he could not truly rest. Yes, something was coming, and Gedvalorth, mad lord of the Empty, was frightened.


	2. Girl Disappearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg catches up to Castiel and the Winchesters to discover someone that she doesn't expect, and she finds that she may have to shift her plans for her future.

_[Envy can spread herself so thinly. She slipped in before I could notice it.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AGnLVMx08ls)_    


  


It was a while before Meg could catch up to where she thought she’d last seen Castiel. She turned a corner onto the street where she’d thought he’d gone and he wasn’t there. She’d been able to keep up with him for the most part, but she assumed that the longer they were out in the world the stronger their powers would return. She gazed around the deserted street for any sign of stirring. Maybe he’d sensed her behind him and he wasn’t sure what she wanted, and he was going to surprise attack. Her ears pricked up at a rustling, but when she looked her head quickly to see what caused the sound, it was just a flag overhead rippling in a breeze.   
  
So strange how much like wings that flag had sounded. She took a deep breath and reached for her own translocation powers. She thought she’d start small and focused on somewhere close by. A dive bar she’d passed trying to catch up with Castiel would do. She closed her eyes and in a blink she was at the edge of the small parking lot. There were only a few cars, and true to her estimate the bar was only populated by four people and the bartender. She sat down at the bar and asked for a double of the house whiskey.   
  
“You alright?” The bartender set the glass in front of her and filled it. He seemed like he actually was concerned for her.   
  
“I’ll let you know, barkeep,” she said, tossing the whiskey back then breathing deeply. “Could I use your phone?” Meg tucked her hair behind her ear, and put on her most innocent expression.   
  
The bartender smiled, “Sure, hon.” He brought her a cordless handset and she raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, I know it’s dated, but cell service is shit here.”   
  
“Well, thanks,” she said smiling sweetly. That faded as she slid off the chair and walked toward the back of the bar away from the pool tables and the sound of the jukebox playing a Waylon Jennings song. She dialed Dean’s cell phone number, then when he didn’t answer she dialed the next three she remembered. “Come on, Dean. Pick up.” When she got no answer, and two disconnected lines, she tried the numbers she remembered for Sam.   


She knew that Castiel would have gone straight to them, but she couldn’t trace the angel or the boys. She’d have to either guess where they were or they’d have to tell her. Sam didn’t pick up any of the numbers she dialed and she cursed in frustration. She walked back over to the bar and handed the phone back. “Thanks anyhow,” she murmured. “Another double?”

The bartender poured the shot and then said, “My name’s Matt. What’s yours?”   
  
She laughed, a short mirthless sound. “My name...My name is Meg.”   
  
“Well, Meg, do you need a ride somewhere, or do you need somewhere to stay?” he asked, and she actually thought he might be trying to be helpful. Anyone else she’d think they were trying to pick her up. Maybe he was really just nice.  
  
“You know, I could use a place to hole up, but I’m gonna be honest, Matt,” she leaned forward and whispered, “I haven’t got money.”   
  
He nodded and smiled. “That’s alright. You seem like you’re pretty down on your luck. I have a good Samaritan complex. We’re matched well.”  
  
“I do tend to draw in good Samaritans. It’s becoming a trend.” She studied the inside of her empty glass.   
  
“Another?” Matt asked.  
  
“One more for the road.” He filled the glass again and she drank it.   
  
“Here,” Matt said, handing her a one hundred dollar bill. “The hotel in town is cheap, but you can get yourself something to eat or a bus ticket with the rest. Whatever you need.”   
  
“You know, Matt...You’re alright.” She thanked him and walked out of the bar feeling like maybe she shouldn’t be so pessimistic. As she walked toward the hotel Matt had mentioned she laughed at herself quietly. It wasn’t too long ago that she would have walked into that bar, killed everybody inside and taken all the cash from the register. What was she now? Not exactly the demon she was before. Part of her was kind of pissed off at how nice she was now, and then part of her was glad that she hadn’t turned that bar into a slaughterhouse.   
  
If she was honest with herself she really wouldn’t have had the energy for it anyhow. She still felt a little pull of weariness, but she was sure that just one night of resting and watching crappy cable would fix that up. She wasn’t going to find Castiel tonight, so she might as well rest up for the next day’s searching. Tomorrow she’d start monitoring the sites she knew that Sam used to pick up hunts. She was bound to run into them eventually if she just followed the cases they’d show up to.   
  


\-----------

A few days later that she picked up on a lead out of Texas. It seemed like people were turning up mostly eaten and that sounded just like something the boys would rush off to investigate. It only convinced her further when she double checked the location and discovered it was Tombstone. She knew Dean was a sucker for westerns. She’d once witnessed him torture someone during his stint in Hell and he’d actually said, to his victim, “I’m your huckleberry.” She had to admit, it was kind of funny. Meg still wasn’t confident she could will herself that far, so she gathered up her pick-pocketed check cards, gassed up a stolen sedan, and headed for Texas.  
  
Once she reached Tombstone she spent a whole night driving around to different motels looking for the Impala. Where there was “Baby”, as Dean called the car, there were Winchesters. Where there were Winchesters there would likely be Castiel. It was around 4 AM that she finally spied the classic car, and when she realized the hotel they were at she could have kicked herself for not checking there sooner. Of course it would be the cheesiest, most genre-centric location Dean could have found.   
  
 _Poor Clarence,_  she thought.  _Poor Sam!_  Giggling at the idea of them being dragged along for the campiest hunting trip of their lives. She went to the office and asked for a room that she thought would be close to where the boys might be staying. She went to her room and set up by the window with all of the lights off. You never knew when they’d discover a lead or wander in or out, so she decided to keep an eye out all night. Eventually she got bored and switched on the television.   
  
“Of course,” she sighed. “Bonanza.” Oh well, there were worst things. Worse things came on after the western show had ended and Meg switched the TV off. She checked the time and saw that it was now 8:45 AM. She heard a door nearby slam shut and peeked out the blinds to see Sam and Castiel was with him! 

 _Oh!_ she thought rising to stand and getting ready to run out after them. Then she saw someone else, though. A teenage kid that looked for all the world like she imagined a young Castiel might. Or his meat suit anyhow. She knew that Jimmy Novak didn’t have any other children besides that daughter.   
  
Who could this kid possibly be? She sensed an odd aura of power from him, and when she looked really hard past the humanity within him she saw what seemed angelic but stronger. She sat back down watching them climb into the Impala, only half-aware that Dean wasn’t with them, too. She should have gone out the door then and caught their attention but something made her stay. Something she was feeling in the pit of her stomach.   
  
Was that jealousy? She was jealous. “Ridiculous!” she shouted to herself, but still she didn’t draw attention to herself and they pulled out of the parking lot and drove away. Confusion turned swiftly to anger, and then the rational thought broke through. _Someone has to know who this kid is. With all that power he’s on somebody’s radar. I’ll find me somebody to torture it out of,_ she decided.

She threw her senses out for another demon. Somebody who might be on the chain of information for whoever might be in charge. Be it Crowley or someone else, she knew that there would be feelers out for this kid. It didn’t take her long there was a demon just across town. She crept up to where he stood talking on a cell phone. He’d just arrived, apparently after a strange incident involving a security officer and a young kid that he thought sounded promising. Once he ended his call it took no small effort to subdue him, but she did it, and she had him out in an abandoned warehouse within the hour; tied up to a pipe with warded runes so he couldn’t smoke out, bloody, and so close to breaking.   
  
“Again, I ask so nicely...who is the freaking kid?” she yelled, splashing holy water she’d managed to steal from a local church on the cuts she’d made with the demon’s own blade. “I know that you know, so tell me!”   
  
The demon laughed. “You don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter what you do to me, you’ll never get to him first.”   
  
“I don’t want to _get_ to him, dip shit. I want to know why he’s so strong. I want to know why he is...Who is he?” she slashed his knuckles, pouring more holy water over the wounds.   
  
The demon howled in pain which turned to high pitch chuckling until he finally said, “ _Fine_ , I’m dead anyhow. The kid is a nephilim. A really powerful one, _Meg_.”   
  
She glared at him, “So you do know me. I wondered”   
  
He laughed, “Know you enough to know that you’ve gone soft. Know that you’ve been broken by an _angel_. He’s made a fool of you. Look at what you’ve been driven to.” 

That stung her. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt something in her sink a little further. “Clarence has to have his reason for having that kid around.”  
  
“Oh, he _sure_ does...” the demon snarled, and then he laughed. He laughed loudly, and joyfully.   
  
Meg felt unfamiliar feelings swirl with rage, and before she knew what she was doing she took the demon’s blade and stabbed him multiple times. When she was done she was covered in the blood of his meat suit, the demon long gone.   
  
“ _Damn._ Dammit, Clarence,” she breathed.   
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations are made, and Meg tries to determine her next move. Elsewhere, dimensions are shifting.

_[I’ve got this feeling that there’s something that I missed.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ceniz6d0f4w) _

  


Weeks went by, and Meg spent most of her time wandering. She’d spend five days in one town, drinking, getting in fights with demons to let off steam. Then she’d move on to the next town over and start all over again. Demons were a dime a dozen, and she could do whatever she wanted to them, conscience free. Something inside her said that she was killing the meat suit along with the demon, but she reasoned that the Winchesters did it all the time, and these people were probably all dead anyhow.   
  
She never really got the appeal of demon nests. She always felt like she worked better in smaller numbers. The only real affiliations she’d ever enjoyed were when she worked with her “brother” Tom under Yellow Eyes. They’d come down off the rack on the same day, and worked well as a team torturing souls in Hell. So, when Yellow Eyes had taken a shine to her, she’d insisted that he take on Tom, too. They’d be efficient, she’d promised. No one better to take on these Winchester boys. She’d never imagined that he’d try to test the Colt on her, all those years ago, but she was still enraged at his death. Now that she thought back on it, she was a little pissed at herself that she hadn’t been the one to take him out for that stunt that he pulled. After all, without her Azazel would have never adopted Tom into his fold.   
  
On this particular night she found herself wondering what might have been if Tom and Azazel had both survived to the Apocalypse. What would Azazel have done when Sam threw himself into the Cage? _Probably would have challenged Crowley's attempts to get the throne and reclaimed the title of King of Hell,_ she thought as she stabbed the fourth of five demons in the nest she was clearing. The meat suit fell to the floor and she sighed loudly. She heard the last demon behind her and she spun around using her forearm to slam the woman up against the wall, holding her there with a blade at her throat.   
  
“ _Please_ , no,” the demon said, her dark eyes wide as she pleaded.   
  
“ _Please_ , shut up and die,” Meg countered.  
  
“Look, I’ll do anything. I didn’t even want this assignment! Asmodeus--”  
  
“Who, now?” Meg asked, arching an eyebrow. She knew that name very well. Azazel had taught her all about the Princes of Hell and their importance.   
  
“Asmodeus? The new King of Hell?” the demon woman rolled her eyes in annoyance and then struggled a little and Meg let her drop. She tucked a spiral curl behind her ear and continued to explain, “He’s assigned squads of demons all over the place to keep an eagle-eye out for this kid. Some super powerful nephilim kid.”  
  
It was Meg’s turn to roll her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. So, Asmodeus is the King of Hell. What happened to Crowley?” 

“You live under a rock?” the demon asked, sneering.   


“You will soon if you don’t answer the damned question.” Meg waved her knife around to remind the woman that Meg was generously not killing her yet.   


“Okay! Crowley’s...Nobody knows. Probably dead. That’s the only reason any of us can guess he’s not been back to fight for power. Will you let me go?”  
  
Meg studied the woman for a moment. “Yeah, but with the condition that you sneak me into Asmodeus’ throne room. I want to get a feel for this cat. Any clue as to why he needs this particular nephilim? They’re all the same as far as power goes, right? What does it matter?”  
  
“I don’t know. I just go where I’m told, and follow orders. It keeps me not dead.”   


“Well, you’ll stay not dead if you get me in. Final offer,” Meg said narrowing her eyes.   
  
“Fine by me,” the demon said and in a blink they were standing in the corridor outside of Hell’s throne room in Needham Asylum. “I’m Blaise by the way,” she whispered to Meg and then stood silently with her hand on the door.   


“That’s nice, Blaise,” Meg responded after a moment.  
  
“And you are...?” Blaise asked.   
  
“Impatient. Open the door?” Meg pointed with the knife before tucking it back into it’s holster at her belt. Blaise huffed but did as she was asked and pushed the door open, straightening her back and raising her chin. Meg watched her out of the corner of her vision, remembering a time when she was a good soldier for Hell. How she would stand straight and tall at attention or scrape and bow to her masters. She’d been foolish and blinded by glory. At least Blaise seemed like she was just doing a job. “So...Where’s the big guy?” Meg asked, looking around the room, then at the few demons seemingly waiting anxiously.

“He’s out...Um...” one male demon said, scratching the back of his head.   


“What’s going on? What happened?” Blaise questioned.  


“Well,” the man said, “Asmodeus had captured that angel Castiel...And Lucifer.”   


“Lucifer was here? He’s not in the Cage?” Meg asked eyes wide.  


“Uh, no?” Blaise furrowed her brow. “You really _are_ way out of the loop, aren’t you?”  


Meg groaned in frustration. “Just give me the abridged version.”

“Crowley’s mom, Rowena--”  


“No, sorry, Crowley’s mom? What the hell has been happening since I’ve been gone?” Meg said raising her hands in confusion. The other demons looked at each other bewildered. “Just...Just keep going. We entered Bizarro World and then, what?”  


“Well, Rowena somehow busted Lucifer out of the Cage with the help of the Winchesters and that angel, whats-his-face. Long story short there was this big Darkness thing, God, angels--”

“Okay, more abridged,” Meg insisted.

“Lucifer ended up siring this nephilim kid and we have to find him. Asmodeus captured Lucifer and the Winchester’s pet angel for bait--” he said trying to rush through the story, but Meg interrupted.

“The kid is _Lucifer’s_!” she laughed, much to the annoyance of the man. Then thought twice about what the man had said, “Castiel is _here_? Where?”  


The demon gritted his teeth and hissed as he took in a breath. “Yeah...So, that’s kind of the thing. They got away.”

Blaise grabbed the man by the front of the shirt, “They _what_?”

“They-They overpowered us! What were we supposed to do?” the man whimpered.  


“ _Stop them, maybe?”_ Blaise screamed into his face before hauling back and punching him.  


“Well I didn’t see _you_ around to help!” he yelled back-handing her.  


“I. Was. On. Assignment!” Blaise screeched, punctuating her words with strikes. The two dissolved into a full on fight.   
  
“Freaking demons,” Meg whispered to herself. In a breath she transported herself back to her hotel room away from Hell’s throne room and the fighting, screeching demons. “They are going to be in a heap ton of shit when their boss gets home.” She walked over to the in-room fridge and grabbed a beer, then looking up at her reflection in the mirror above the dresser, she raised the beer to toast herself. “A toast to the kid being Lucifer’s. Now...To find the boys again.”   


\---------------------------------------------------------------------

##  **Go Back To Sleep**

_[ Don't fret precious, I'm here. Step away from the window, go back to sleep.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzXboq_0_SU) _  


  


Somewhere, in the deep in the Empty, Gedvalorth slept fitfully. His mine was troubled and even the angels in his dream realm were plagued with nightmares. The Empty was writhing and murmurs and screams were echoing all around. For the first time in the history of his existence Gedvalorth was uncertain. The future trembled and rippled and like the pop of a tendon twisted too far Gedvalorth felt it. 

He felt the moment that the future erupted, the moment that everything shifted and every being in the Empty, every demon and every angel jolted awake. The noise, the chatter, and the confusion was all too much. Gedvalorth felt it rattling his consciousness. He felt his whole form twitch and arch, as though he could quiet it. He manifested himself before the chaotic denizens of the Empty and bellowed,  _“Go back to sleep! I need sleep!”_

No one seemed to hear him in their fear. Their desire for answers or release from this black hole that had been their peaceful home for so long. The Empty was a cacophony of voices. Gedvalorth was stifled, and soon the ancient being was curled in on himself like a frightened child. “ _Please_ ,” he begged. “ _Please_ , go back to _sleep_.”   
  
The Empty ripped. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------- 

##  **Black Wings**

_[ There are those who say beneath his coat there are wings.  ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8PsVkwC1Jmo) _  


_  
_

In another universe the archangel Michael stood looking up at the stars as he felt the hair rise on the back of his vessel’s neck. Something was broken and he could feel it stretch through all space, time, and across dimensions. A window had just opened up, and now he knew what he needed to do. There was an army of angels just within his reach. He could feel them through the snag. For a moment he wondered if Lucifer could feel the breech, too, wherever he was. _No, Lucifer is too weak and arrogant to notice this,_ he thought.   
  
“Alahael,” Michael called, never taking his gaze off of the sky. Alahael appeared behind him, dipping his head in a sort of bow, and waited for orders. “Something is changing. I want you to assemble the seraphs. All of the seraphs. Find the breech. It could be a way through to the reality that Lucifer and that woman arrived from.”   


“Yes, sir!” Alahael said, beginning to bow his head again.  
  
“Alahael, if you find the breech,” Michael said, “Rip it more.”   


“Sir?” The other angel raised his eyebrows.  


“There are angels beyond that veil, Alahael, and _every_ angel--no matter the dimension--is mine to command. Go,” Michael said.  _“Bring back my legion.”_  



	4. House of Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg finds an angel, but not the one she was looking for.

_[Tell me I'm a bad man, kick me like a stray. Tell me I'm an angel, take this to my grave.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=woalhgxmnDo)_

  


Meg spent days interrogating demons and following leads trying to find Castiel or the Winchesters or both. She’d finally stumbled across a demon who was following a trail of what appeared to be dead angels.   
  
“The last one was in Missouri! I’m telling you, that’s _all_ I know!” the demon hissed, struggling to keep her neck back away from Meg’s knife.  


“That’s all you know? Why should I believe you?” Meg slammed the demon up against the wall two times for emphasis.   


“Believe me or don’t, it’s true!”  


Meg let her arm off the woman and she tried to catch her breath. “Thank--” the woman began to say before Meg stabbed her with the demon blade she’d stolen.  


“Yeah, no. Sorry. Can’t have you running back to whoever and telling them about me,” she mumbled wiping the blade on a bandanna she pulled out of her back pocket. “Missouri? _Where_ in Missouri?” she mumbled pulling out her phone and going to Google. “’Strange deaths in Missouri’ and... _Bingo_ ,” she said aloud to herself as the page popped up with a headline right at the top.

_Multiple bodies found in and around Monroe City with their throat slashed. Serial killer feared._

Meg blinnked and found herself right in the heart of downtown Monroe City and there before her begging for change was none other than Lucifer himself. 

At first she was afraid to approach him, worried that he might very well smite her on the spot. Something about his demeanor, though, eventually propelled her forward. She reached in her pocket and plunked some change into the paper cup he was holding. “Oh, wow!” he said looking down happily at the two quarters in his cup. “Thanks--Oh,” his smile faded, “It’s you. How is it you?” 

“It’s a long, interesting story. Better question, there, Boss. How is it you? Aren’t you supposed to be _way_ down deep in the Cage right now?” she said, raising an eyebrow.   


“Honey, where have you been? Come sit next to papa,” he said patting the bench next to him. “It’s story time. Once upon a time there was a witch--”  


“Why do people keep wanting to tell me these long ass stories. TLDR version, how ‘bout?”   


Lucifer shook his head. “Never any patience for poetry, Meg.” 

“What can I say? I like it short and sweet,” she said, rolling her eyes.   


“Okay, fine. Magic, Crowley, Winchesters,” he said, then he snapped. “Here I be.”   


“That’s plenty enough explanation. Speaking of--”  


“Oh, Crowley? He’s super dead. Like way dead. Deadest dead.” Lucifer nudged her with his elbow. “Guy insisted he was winning to the very last second.”  


“You offed him?” Meg narrowed her eyes and smiled a little, confused but pleased.  


“Sadly, no. He killed himself in some noble gesture to help the Winchesters,” Lucifer made a face and stuck his finger in his mouth like he was gagging. “So puny.”  


“Yeah, well, he wouldn’t be the first one to sacrifice themselves for the so called ‘greater good’,” Meg said, defensively.   


“Hoo-ooh. Touchy, touchy. Lemme guess, you got yourself dead helping the Winchesters? Meggy, that really is a 180,” he laughed.  


“I grew some feelings. So sue me.” Meg looked up at the edge of the building in front of them.   


Lucifer studied her face, his smile reaching his eyes. “You fell for one of the _Winchesters_? That is absolutely hilarious!” he slapped his leg and cackled. 

“Oh, it’s funnier than that even,” she said softly and seriously.   


He stilled, and his eyes grew wide. “Oh...Oh, no, Meg. _Castiel?_ My little brother? Oh, that’s not funny that’s just tragic. Meg, he’s an angel! You’re a demon! Circles and squares, girl!” 

“It’s not that far fetched...” she said, annoyed.  


“Wait, did something happen with you two?”   


Meg stood up swiftly, “Well, this little reunion has been real fun, but now I have to go find Cas, ‘kay? Bye, then.” 

“So, that’s a _yes_! Ooh la la, Meggy!” Lucifer said, shaking his cup to jingle the change. “So that’s why you’re keen on finding little bro. Well, I’ve got bad news for you.”  


Alarm bells rang in Meg’s mind that she was about to be fed a line. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“Well, Castiel is _dead_ , kid. You should stick with me! We could have some fun. Like old times,” he said, shrugging. “I could use a good soldier.”  


Meg couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. “Not a soldier anymore.”

“Then what _are_ you? What _good_ are you?” Lucifer inquired, menacingly.   


Meg set her jaw and glared at him, “I know one thing I’m not. Powerless and begging for change.” 

“Cut me do I not bleed, Meg? Ouch!” he said putting his hand over his heart.  


“Save it, Lucifer. Any idea where the boys might be?” she asked.  


“Probably somewhere underneath the rainbow,” he said, dismissively.   


Meg sighed. “You know what? You were a shitty boss,” she said before relocating herself to the roof of the building she’d been looking at before. She peered over the edge to see Lucifer laugh for a few moments and then go back to begging. After a second he started talking to the man next to him and Meg felt sorry for that guy. “Poor guy. Just get on out of there before he talks you to death,” she said. Something Lucifer had said had sparked a memory, though. When Azazel was still the King of Hell he’d told her about many locations where things were hidden or that she should avoid. _Somewhere underneath the rainbow_ , she thought. _Kansas. What thing was in Kansas? Dammit, remember!  
_

She closed her eyes and let her memory take hold and then she willed herself to that place. 


	5. Could’ve Gone Mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meg traces back to a place she remembers from her past where she discovers that things may be much more dire than she anticipated.

\----------------------------------------------------

_[I have to keep a hold of myself. Is that really you or is it someone else? I swear it looks just like him.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DiXzTU-uLuQ) _

Meg breathed in the cool, damp air of the vault she was now standing in. Her demon eyes could see in any darkness, which was a good thing because this room was as dark as a cave. This place, she recalled, was where there were some important artifacts stored. There were bones here procured from evil men and women throughout history, vials of blood from heretics, several locks of blood-matted hair from the head of Abel, and many other various ingredients for any dark magic you might want to perform. 

Azazel had brought her here sometime in the early 1960′s, telling her that until then it had been risky to try to gain access to this vault, but that the guardians had been neutralized and were now extinct. Meg surveyed the room, noting that in addition to the large locked compartments there were boxes full of books. She picked up a few reading their titles. “Sam would have a field day with these,” she muttered flipping through the dusty pages of a book on demonic hierarchy. She ran a finger over the chapter titled _Princes of Hell_ before slamming the book shut and tossing it back on top of the pile. 

She huffed and yanked open the door of the vault, and it groaned on it’s rusted hinges. Meg stepped out into a passageway looking right to left to see if there was anything else there worth checking out. When Azazel had brought her here before he had just translocated them directly into the vault, so she wanted to get an idea of how this place was set up. To her right it appeared that there had been some kind of explosion, and the passage ended in crumbled earth. She took a step to the left and felt a sort of tingle on the bottom of her foot. Her gaze shot downward and she noticed that patterned into the tile of the floor was a devil’s trap, broken and cracked, but still clearly visible. “Thank hell for that. Must have cracked when this tunnel fell,” she said aloud to try to sooth her own nerves. Getting stuck in a devil’s trap in a hole in the middle of nowhere wouldn’t do any good for anybody.   
  
She walked on down the open end of the passageway, running her hand along the wall, nearly jumping when her hand hit open air. “Another passage?” she said, perplexed as she turned and followed it a few feet to yet another collapsed ending. “This is like a house or something...What the hell happened down here?” Meg went back the way she came, turning again to the left and then around a curve to a set of galvanized stairs. “They go up,” she quipped to herself, climbing them slowly until she reached a large steel door. She banged against it a few times and it finally gave way to the fresh night air. 

Meg turned around and studied the dark doorway she’d just exited. “Weird place,” she whispered to herself. Her eyes moved up to view the large, abandoned power plant that loomed over her, before she trudged off to try to find some sort of civilization to get herself some whiskey.   
  
She had no idea that just on the other side of that power plant, down the hill, Donatello, Prophet of the Lord, was exiting the part of the Men of Letters bunker that had not collapsed, on his way to fried chicken and destiny.   
  
\----------------------------------------------------  
  
Meg walked along the sidewalk in front of the different storefronts on Main Street in Lebanon, Kansas sipping a flask of bourbon she’d stolen from a demon she’d run into. More of Asmodeus’ detail, she assumed. There wasn’t a single liquor store within twenty minutes of the vault she’d explored, so it had been a welcome discovery in the demon’s jacket pocket, along with $60 in cash. Suddenly she heard voices coming from nearby, so she screwed the cap back on the flask and jammed it in the back pocket of her jeans. Something about these people seemed strange to her. Slowly she moved forward until she could see who was talking.   
  
She could see a man, small in stature, and heavy set. He wore glasses and was holding a bucket of chicken. He was talking to a man, but all she could see was that he wore a tan colored coat and he had dark hair. She felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck, and she stared at the man. As she watched the man with glasses opened the bucket of chicken taking out a piece. The way the man in the tan coat moved, his height, his build were so similar to Castiel, but there was something off. Something about him didn’t seem right. She moved slowly until she could just see the side of his face, but making sure that she stayed hidden from view behind a tree and some shrubs.   


Meg heard as the man with the glasses increased his volume, saying, “I couldn’t live with myself if they never make it out of that terrible place.”   
  
“Yes, yes, that would be very tragic. Forget this,” Castiel said, not at all sounding like himself, as he touched the head of the other man, just as he was about to take a bite of his chicken.  
  
“That’s not Castiel,” Meg hissed. Just then Castiel’s form shifted into that of a man in a white suit. His hair was graying and he spoke quietly as he leered forward at the smaller man. “Asmodeus,” she said, eyes widened. Fight or flight kicked in and she transported herself somewhere safe, somewhere she knew. By instinct she traveled, finding herself standing in front of Northern Indiana State Hospital, where she’d watched over Castiel when he had taken on Sam’s memories of Hell. She blew out a big puff of air, taking the flask out of her back pocket and turning it up, gulping down the burning bourbon.   
  
“This is a mess. This is a _big_ mess. Why is it _always_ a big mess?” she said, shaking her head in consternation. “Clarence, you’d better be alive when I do find you again, or so help me I’ll kill you,” she swore.  



	6. Across the Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Winchesters search for ways to get their mother and Jack home safely from Apocalypse World things continue to shift in the Empty. In spite of a few heavy losses to Mary and Jack, Michael remains confident, as his plans begin to unfold.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

 _Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes, they call me on and on across the universe._  
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The noise was deafening here in the Empty. Souls of angels and demons were clawing for the rip into this dimension, clamoring over each other in a frenzy. The rip was small and high above them, but they would never give up trying to escape the nothingness they found themselves wrapped up in. The shrieks and cries of the creatures longing for freedom were piercing to the ears of the Empty’s keeper. Gedvalorth trembled, feeling nauseated. He was losing the battle against the waves of hysteria and sorrow he was feeling.   
  
He almost hoped that all of these creatures would escape, and then his Empty would be truly still again. No souls that could awaken, no charges to watch over. Just quiet forever and ever and ever. He wanted them to _get out, get out, get out. Shut up, shut up, shut up._  He rocked himself slightly, pulling at his hair, whispering pleas for it all to end soon. Let these angel and demons complete their exodus and then he could collect himself to repair the rip. Maybe reinforce this place.   
  
Gedvalorth climbed shakily to his feet, his eyes tracking over the writhing wall of unbidden guests. He registered that there were so may more angels here than there were demon souls, but the thought didn’t really snag his attention longer than a moment. Another wave of pain shot through him and he looked up to see that the rift was widening and elongating.   
  
The rift burst open, and souls flooded out. He cawed with joy, “Yes! Go! Leave me alone! Let me be!” As the din began to quiet with every soul that slipped away through the tear, Gedvalorth regained more and more control. He knit his realm back together slowly, all of his focus centered around putting things back to rights. As the last being slipped out with a squeal Gedvalorth stitched up the Empty. Silence drenched him like ice, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The archangel Michael was filled with righteous anger. Alahael had yet to return from widening the tear in the walls of the Empty; a place that existed between dimensions. Michael knew of this realm and that it had been created shortly after Michael, himself, had come into being. His father had told him that it was to be left alone and intact. God had said that the Empty was important, and that it would hopefully remain uninhabited, except for it’s caretaker. His father had been benevolent in his intentions, but ultimately his hopes were unfulfilled. Lucifer went beyond even what their father had expected of him. Now the empty was filled with Lucifer’s demons and angels alike.   
  
Michael could sense the change coming, just like a human being could scent rain coming in on the wind. The battle had been raging for months now within his particular dimension. The nephilim, Jack, had escaped with Mary Winchester, and they had been doing serious damage to Michael’s armies. The child was powerful, and guided by his surrogate mother, he was driving Michael’s forces back. It would prove fruitless in the end; Michael had enough foresight to know this. He had already moved his remaining forces to a place in Lafayette, Louisiana, where he knew that the walls between worlds were thin. He remained determined to break through into the dimension that Jack and Mary and that alternate Lucifer had come from. He was going to have his fresh start and he would do things right. He would reign there in a way he never could reign here.  
  
There were some that he knew would try to stop him. They would try to get in his way, just like young Jack. It was a shame that the boy refused to work with him. Jack was very, very powerful and Michael could have used him. In the end the nephilim would have his role to play, that Michael could sense. He knew, too, that Lucifer would play into the future just like a fiddle. His pride and his arrogance would lead him right back into the path of his older brother. Michael could feel these things. Curiously, he could foresee the presence of another strong celestial, but their visage was unclear. It didn’t matter to him, he knew victory was well within his grasp.    
  
His thoughts were broken by joyful songs and shouts in his mind. What some of his younger siblings called “angel radio” was now flooded by the voices of angels long dead. He knew most of these angels were from the other realm and he sent them his condolences and his reassurances that they would soon return to their home world, and he would lead them with a strong, holy hand. He could sense weakness in some of these souls, darkness in a few, but that didn’t matter to him. They would all bend to his will in time. They would have no other choice.   
  
Alahael appeared before him and bowed his head low. “It is done, sir. I opened the rift in the Empty, just as you asked. It was repaired from within as the last souls made their escape.”   
  
“I’m aware. Alahael, you have served me well. It won’t be long, yet, and we will have all that we desire. A whole new world, my friend,” Michael said smiling.   
  
“What should we do about the demons, sir?” Alahael asked.   
  
“Nothing. They won’t be of any consequence. They’re leaderless and they’re cowardly. They will not challenge me.” Michael laughed, then held his arms open with his palms raised, “‘And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people: and there shall be a time of trouble, such as never was since there was a nation even to that same time: and at that time thy people shall be delivered, every one that shall be found written in the book.’ Time for me to rise, Alahael. Go and join the others near the veil.”   
  
“Yes, sir,” Alahael replied, bowing again lowly before taking wing to meet his brothers and sisters in Lafayette.   
  
Michael breathed in deeply and then sighed, satisfied that things were all falling into place. “‘And they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament; and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever and ever.’ Amen.”  



	7. Heaven's Gate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel encounters a familiar face in Amarillo while out looking for Gabriel.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_[One look from you and I’m on that faded love, out of my body and flying above.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4fC1s-JGTP4) _

\-------------------------------------------------------------

In an old warehouse off South Johnson Street in Amarillo, Texas the angel Castiel stood, leaning his back against a support beam, leaving a voicemail on Sam Winchester’s cell phone. “Sam, it’s Castiel.  _Again_...Listen, I’ve left a message with Dean already. I’m  _in_ Amarillo. Have you made any progress in finding Gabriel? I sensed no power here but a small coven of vampires, a few demons. I’ve dispatched with most of them. I’m going to head back to the bunker to check in if I don’t hear from you or Dean soon.” He hung up the phone just as he heard a scuffling sound behind him. He stood still, acting as if he hadn’t heard the sound, but he couldn’t help tilting his head in curiosity at what he sensed. It was something like a demon from the level of energy he was feeling, but something was off. He felt the demon drawing near and he spun in a battle stance, grabbing the demon’s outstretched arm and slamming his hand onto its forehead, but he held his power when he noticed who he had in his grasp. 

“Whoa, there, Clarence. Ain’t callin’ me 'baby'. Why the sudden change?” Meg quipped, nervously. She smiled flirtatiously, trying to hide just how overjoyed she was to actually be standing in front of the real Castiel after all this time. 

He slowly and gently slid his hand from her forehead to her cheek before dropping it to hold onto her other arm, holding her firmly in his grasp in case this was all some kind of trick. “I never called you ‘baby’,” he said, softly and seriously. 

“It’s a Destiny’s Child song, Cas,” she explained.

“I know it’s a song by the group Destiny’s Child.” In response to the look of surprise that crossed her face he shrugged. “I  _do_ know some things now. What I  _want_ to know is...How are you alive? What is this?”

“When you busted out of that nothing-place we were in, the Hollow? The Vacant? Whatever it was, that voice calling you, and then you getting out, it woke me up, and I was apparently just as annoying as you were to it’s king. Got out. I’ve been trying to catch up with you ever since. I’ve killed vampires, demons, hell I even sneaked into Asmodeus’ throne room to try to get the low down on that nephilim kid,” she said, then snorted a laugh. “You wouldn’t believe what I thought--”

“What do you know about Jack?” Castiel demanded, letting her arms go as if she’d burned him.

Meg frowned. “Hey, now. Easy. I just know the basics. He’s Lucifer’s kid and he’s part hummingbird. You’re really protective of the kid for somebody who’s immortal enemies with his daddy-o,” she ssid. “What’s going on around here Castiel? A few weeks ago I saw Asmodeus posing as _you_ and doing the retcon on some guy, demons are looking for Lucifer’s kid, Lucifer was freaking begging for change in broad humanity. _What_ is the deal?”

As she finished speaking Castiel raised his eyebrows and drew a deep breath. “It is all very, _very_ complicated.” 

“Un-complicate it for me, Clarence.” She put her hands in her back pockets and raised an eyebrow, “You’re not getting rid of me easy, so spill it.” 

He turned his eyes toward the ceiling as if the answer might be written there. “When I came back from the Empty--that ‘nothing-place’ we were in--something wasn’t right. I could feel that it wasn’t. I...Can’t fly. I can’t heal people if they’re too injured. It’s like I’m only a fraction of the celestial being that I once was. I’m still strong, I can still smite, but anything that requires my full angelic powers, I’m...Incapable of. Have you noticed--” 

“Yeah, I can’t smoke out. Tried a few times during some hairy fights, but to no avail, and I have no telekinetic powers at all. Just my translocation,” she said in frustration. “See? It happens to everybody, Clarence,” Meg joked, trying to ease the dark mood. 

It seemed to work, as one corner of Castiel’s lips quirked up. “I _have_ missed your terrible humor,” he said, looking at her fondly before shaking his head slowly. “I feel like something is wrong. Amidst this new feeling of fracture there have been many tribulations.” 

“Such as?” Meg said, moving to settle herself to sit on a pile of old, stacked up shipping crates. 

He paced in front of her as he spoke. “The boy, Jack. I care for him as if he was my own son, I _do_. I believe that Sam and Dean think of him as family as well. Most especially Sam, who seems to sense the same brokenness in Jack that Sam himself feels. I think he identifies with Jack because of his history as one of Hell’s tools intended for use to cause destruction,” Castiel said, in a that’s-just-the-truth manner. “Then there’s Apocalypse World, and trying to open the rift to get Jack and Mary Winchester safely back to this dimension--”

“Hubba-what? What did you just say? This dimension? There’s another dimension? Mary _Winchester_?” Her eyes were wide with surprise. 

“Yes, Mary Winchester, and that’s not even the most remarkable thing that’s happened since you were slain. To the point of dimensions...there are thousands of other dimensions. Heaven, Hell, the Empty? They’re not constructs within just this universe, but in many. In this realm there are under a dozen angels left, but in the Apocalypse World there are whole armies. In this realm there are Winchesters, in the other they were never born and the world is a wasteland.” 

“Is there and Apocalypse World Castiel?” she asked, suggestively. 

He narrowed his gaze. “Most likely. You’ll never find out,” he said sternly. 

“Aw, _why?_ Let me have a little fun. Two Clarences? Could be interesting,” she smiled devilishly, enjoying how brooding he was. 

Castiel leaned his shoulder against the nearby beam. “Meg, if there is a Castiel there, then there is a high probability that he’s nothing like me. He would smite you on sight. You’re a demon, and the angels there do horrible things to humans, let alone abominations.”

“What if there’s an alternate me? You think he would have killed her way back when in that ring of holy fire?” 

“Very likely. I could have, but there was something about you that made me hesitate. I still don’t know what that could have been. I’m glad I didn’t.” He inspected the seams on his coat sleeves absentmindedly as he spoke, only meeting her gaze at the end. 

“ _I’m_ glad you didn’t. Would have really sucked trying to get out of the Empty on my own,” she laughed shortly. 

“You would try, wouldn’t you?” he asked, smiling softly, not really needing an answer. 

Meg cleared her throat to break the silence that had fallen. “So, why Amarillo?”

“I’m here looking for Gabriel, my brother. We’ve recently learned that he’s alive, and we need his help getting through the rift to get Jack and Mary.” 

“I’ll help you,” she said immediately, “I’ll go with you, too. I’m still okay to fight.” She stood, crossing her arms. 

He put up a hand in a halting motion. “Absolutely not. I can’t let you go with us when we finally open the rift.” 

Outrage crossed her features. “ _Excuse me?_ I’ve busted ass to find you, and now you think you’re going to another _dimension_ without me? I don’t think so. I’m coming with you.” 

“No, you can’t.” 

“Why the hell not?!” she argued.

“Because I need to know that you’re here and safe! At least as safe as you can be. My friends--my family are already risking their lives to go there and bring back Jack and Mary. I can’t risk losing you, too. Risk losing you _again_. I won’t gamble with your life,” he said, the anger he’d begun speaking with melting into weariness. 

For the first time she really noticed how tired he looked. In an ageless vessel, he looked like he’d aged a decade. She stood silent for a moment, meeting his gaze firmly, before finally glancing to the floor. “What can I do here, then? _Let_ me _help_ you.” 

“Avoid hunters and angels, and keep your head low. If things go wrong, I want to know that you’re not in harm’s way. Is that acceptable? You could even look after the bunker, maybe. It’s in Lebanon, Kansas--” 

“ _The old power plant?_ ” she asked, annoyed with herself.

“How do you know that?”

“Sometimes I just miss what’s _right_ in front of my damned face,” she huffed. “You know I love laying low, but Castiel--” 

He stepped towards her and leaned down, resting his forehead against her’s. He closed his eyes, and said softly, “I’m pleased that you’re not dead. Try to stay that way, please?” 

She blew out a breath slowly. “Because you asked nicely. I’ll do this for _you_ , but if the fight comes to me, I’m _not_ going to back down.” 

He drew back and looked at her, one corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “I would expect nothing less of you, Meg,” he said.  


	8. The Devil’s Workday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer is wallowing in his own misery, but maybe there's something he's good at yet...

[_I could buy myself a reason, I could sell myself a job, I could hang myself for treason. All the folks I know are gone._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgnkeL8E4T8)  
  
Lucifer trudged along, staring at his feet as they hit the pavement. He’d come down to earth, feeling dejected. He wanted to see mountains, so he’d found his way to Ogden, Utah. Mountains made him feel less alone. They were almost as old as he was, carefully crafted by the same hand, and generally about as large as his true form would be. They were familiar. _They’re like brothers,_ he thought. _Except I_ like _them, and they don’t constantly yakkity-yak-yak about righteousness._ He passed by a woman sitting at a bistro table in front of a restaurant, and she made the mistake of meeting his gaze. “What do _angels_ know about righteousness, anyhow?” he asked her.   
  
“I...I’m sorry?” The woman slowly placed her hand on her purse that sat atop the table and began to slide it towards herself.   
  
Lucifer groaned. “Look lady, I’m not trying to rob you. Just trying to make casual conversation! Why can’t anybody just let a guy live his best life, Sandy?”   
  
“How did you know my name?” Sandy asked, alarmed.   
  
He chuckled and winked at her. “Because, _Sandy_ , I am Lucifer, the Devil, in the flesh,” he whispered, his eyes flaring red. Sandy was so terrified that she fell backwards in her chair, screaming at the top of her lungs. Lucifer watched as she scrambled to her feet and ran down the street. “Well, that made me happy for a minute. Ooh!” he said, noticing that she’d been too frightened to remember her purse. Lucifer went through it swiftly, well aware that people would be coming to find out what the screaming was about. He threw the contents all around on the ground, until he unearthed Sandy’s wallet. He pocketed the forty-three dollars within it and ducked down an alleyway.   
  
A few minutes and blocks later he knocked shoulders with a guy in a suit. “Hey, buddy! Watch where you’re going!” he shouted at the man’s swiftly retreating form. “Yeah, you _better_ keep walkin’! Your mother sucks co--Oh, who _cares_?” Lucifer sighed and kicked a piece of gravel out of his way as he moved along. “Nobody takes me _seriously_ anymore!” he said aloud to himself. “I used to be somebody. The heaven’s trembled. The earth quaked with fear at the mere mention of my name! Now, what am I? Washed up, no family...A has been. I should burn this entire world to the ground,” he groused. “You know, I should just _burn Heaven with it!_ You hear that, Jo? Would _that_ impress you?” he screamed toward the sky. He shook his head in defeat.   
  
“ _Unbelievable_ ,” he heard a voice say softly. His attention snapped to a young teenager with a cell phone held up, it’s camera pointed toward him.   
  
“Well, _hello_. Are you enjoying the show?” Lucifer snipped.   
  
The boy looked embarrassed that he’d been found out. “Well, you know...You’re yelling at nothing, so I just thought--”  
  
“Just thought what?” Lucifer crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
“You’re an old guy yelling at a cloud. It’s, like, a meme or something?”   
  
“Listen, Josh, don’t you have some homework to do or some teen angst to be venting?”  
  
Josh’s eyes widened. “Whoa, how did you guess my name?”   
  
“Does that not freak you out?” Lucifer asked, his eyes narrowing in judgement.   
  
The boy laughed. “Nah, man, I’ve seen some crazy things on the internet.”   
  
“ _I’ve seen some crazy things on the internet,_ ” Lucifer mocked. “Well, you know what, _Josh_? Right now you’re super worried that I’m an undercover cop who’s gonna bust you for that beer you've got in your backpack that you stole from your grandad while he was passed out in his recliner. You know what _else_?”  
  
Josh gulped, pale as a sheet. “What?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.   
  
“Greta _did_ see your Tumblr post about your crush on her and she thought it was _gross_!” Lucifer sneered.   
  
Josh started crying, grabbed his backpack and ran.   
  
“No spine, these kids,” Lucifer bemoaned. “My kid would kick that kid’s ass...I think.”   
  
He walked a few more blocks and sat down on a bench under a tree. He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them Meg was standing before him. “Come to take me up on my offer? How long you been tailing me?” he asked.   
  
“Absolutely not, and long enough to see you terrorizing the neighborhood,” she said with a chuckle.   
  
“This is what I’m reduced to, Meggy. Wandering the world, pissing in people’s Wheaties. It’s the only way I have fun anymore,” he complained.   
  
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, this is all very amusing. Honestly, though? I’m tired of wandering after you, so I’m going to give you a little advice.”   
  
“Advice? You’re giving _me_ advice? Oh, Meg, Meg, Meg. Who do you think you are?” He put his hand over his heart in pretend shock. “I’m _still_ your master.”  
  
“No, you’re a sad sack of an angel who’s wandering around a town poking humans with a stick,” she said. “You need to get your shit together. Find a bar or something, drink your woes like everybody else. Nobody is going to want you for anything if you don’t...Archangel up, man.” Meg shrugged, and in a blink she was no longer in front of him.   
  
“Drink my woes, eh?” Lucifer stood to his feet and moved on.   
  
His shadow grew long across the ground, and when he looked up to see where he’d wandered he saw that he was standing in front of a bar. The sign above him read “Joe’s Town Club - Bar and Grill”, and took a deep breath. “Just what I need,” he said to no one as he pushed the door open and stepped inside. There was an older man tending the bar, and he nodded as Lucifer entered. “Hey, how’ya doin’?” Lucifer grumbled. He walked over to the old jukebox, put in a dollar, and punched the number for the song he wanted.   
  
“What’ll it be for you?” the bartender asked over the opening notes of a Harry Chapin song.   
  
“Bottle of whiskey, cheapest you got.” Lucifer grabbed the bottle up off the bar and chugged the whole bottle down. “Keep ‘em comin’, pal. Keep ‘em comin’,” he said tapping the bar.   
  
Wallowing so deep in his own misery he didn’t notice anything strange about the man behind the bar, nor did he notice the woman hiding in the shadows at the back of the room. “Yes, Meg was right, he’s here now,” she whispered into her cell phone. “Yes, Sam. We’ll be careful. We’ve caught him dead to rights.” Rowena drew a deep breath, hearing the conversation turning confrontational, “Time to go.” She hung up the phone and waited for the right moment to reveal the spell. The ageless witch was terrified, but this would be the last they’d ever have to deal with Lucifer. They’d open the rift, rescue the Winchester’s family, and then Lucifer would be obliterated from existence.   
  
She just had to be patient. 


	9. No Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Apocalypse World things continue to shift as Michael calls in the Inquisitor to extract information about the nephilim and his rebels.

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[ _You can’t choose what stays and what fades away. And I’d do anything to make you stay._ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATfUdaZQLMA)

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“Sir, we’ve captured two of the rebels from the nephilim’s camp. We’re trying to discern their location and their numbers now. The male is proving particularly resilient to our methods. The female is still unconscious, but we’ve dealt with her before, and she proved to be a waste of time. What should we do, sir?” The angel Raziel stood, head bowed before Michael. Earlier in the day members of her garrison had apprehended the humans, who had foolishly believed that only two of them could overpower a whole squadron of angels. She found herself fighting a smile at the absurdity of the notion, but quickly schooled her features when her Lord Commander began to speak.  
  
“I think that this may call for a more skilled touch, if you get my meaning, Raziel,” Michael said, pacing slowly in front of the angel.   
  
Raziel raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised. “I do understand, sir. I’ll call for the Inquisitor right away,” she said smiling, before she vanished with a flutter.   
  
Michael nodded to himself. Castiel was possibly the most loyal and useful of all of his younger siblings. Just before the war had begun between Heaven and Hell he’d instructed Castiel to take a vessel, and to lead his garrison to earth to begin breaking the seals that would free Lucifer from the Cage. Their final confrontation was foretold, and Michael was a good soldier. He would do as he was told.   
  
Once Lucifer had been destroyed, and his armies reduced to ashes or hiding in the depths of the earth, Michael had ordered Castiel and his garrison to begin rounding up the humans. The earth needed to be purged. The human race was too willful, and they refused to bend to Michael’s rule. They had to be purged, and a new earth would be born from their ashes. Initially Castiel had been wary of his command, and Michael remembered his little brother’s trepidation.   
  
_“Michael, these humans are our Father’s creation. We were ordered to protect them and the earth. We’ve defeated Lucifer, now is to be a time of peace,” Castiel said._  
  
“You would question my command?” Michael  asked him calmly.   
  
“I...Mean no disrespect, brother. I only wish to understand--”  
  
“You need not understand. Only do as you have been instructed. Is that clear?”   
  
Castiel lowered his gaze to the floor and took a deep breath. “Yes, sir.”   
  
As he disappeared Michael spoke to Zachariah who stood at his side. “Once he’s incarcerated the humans in his district,” he said turning to look pointedly at the other angel, “adjust his attitude _.”_  
  
Zachariah had been successful, and once he was done, Castiel had become the fiercest angel under Michael’s command. His skills at interrogation had proved invaluable, and over time even Michael found himself surprised at Castiel’s tactics. He was ruthless and creative in his methods of extracting information, far beyond what Michael or Zachariah had ever expected of him. Once, Zachariah had questioned whether he had taken Castiel’s conditioning too far, but Michael had consoled his brother.   
  
_“Zachariah, you did as I instructed. You corrected his wayward behavior,” Michael said laying a hand on Zachariah’s shoulder._  
  
“Indeed, but sometimes I find his actions...alarming,” Zachariah frowned.  
  
“I will admit that I have been surprised at his ruthlessness before. It is beneficial to me, though. So I will allow him to continue,” Michael said.   
  
Now, Michael cast his thoughts to the future. Castiel’s skills would come to good use once again, and he would learn where the humans made their camp. In Heaven, in his universe, angels were healing and becoming stronger after their escape from the Empty. He had learned from a few who had chosen to find vessels that they were all angels from the Other Universe. He was disappointed that these angels weren’t his own, but they would still serve him, just the same. He would focus his efforts on breaching the Empty of his universe once the nephilim threat was neutralized. Earth would be his, and all because of Castiel.   
  
Michael chose to ignore the feeling at the back of his mind that something had turned against his favor.   
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
__[Welcome to my cage, little lover. Attempt to rearrange with you, baby.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87YL0bhqFSw)   
  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

   
Castiel pulled on his black trench coat over his suit and pulled on his leather gloves as he stared past his own reflection in the mirror to the woman behind him. “I’ve been summoned by Raziel. They’ve got a job for me,” he said in his raspy, even tone. “Sounds like it should be enjoyable. The subjects are obstinate.”   
  
“Can I come this time, Clarence?” Meg asked, the scar around her left eye shifting as she raised her eyebrow.   
  
“Haven’t you already?” he asked seriously, turning to face her. Amusement crept across his face and they laughed together.  
  
She sighed and stretched languidly, smiling still, “I teach you all my tricks and then I never get to play.” She pulled on her tunic length t-shirt and her jeans and sat on the edge of the mattress. They’d been meeting in this abandoned motel for years now, killing anyone--angel, demon, or otherwise--who may have seen them coming and going.   
  
“You know it’s not safe for you to be out there, especially not right now,” he said as he walked over to her and pulled her up to stand against him. He held her against him feeling the warmth radiating from her as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Lately he felt like he couldn’t get warm unless she was with him. “I intend to keep you for a long while,” he said.   
  
She sighed heavily, “You know I love laying low, but I miss the action. I need a purpose, Feathers. I feel useless, and I hate it. I had power and now I have nothing.”   
  
He grabbed a fistful of her long, two-tone hair, just hard enough to pull her head back, and she looked up to meet his eyes defiantly. “Don’t do anything that will put yourself in harms way. I know you, Meg. You’re restless, I understand. Please, for me, keep your head down,” he said softly.   
  
“For a guy who loves to torture people you’re a big softy,” she purred.   
  
He moved his hands to grip her upper arms. “Meg--”  
  
“Okay, okay,” she said, putting her hands against his chest. “I promise I’ll stay low. For now!” She raised her a hand and pointed it in his face, “But if the fight comes to me, I’m not backing down.”   
  
He was motionless for a moment before he quickly moved to clamp his teeth down on the finger she held up. He chuckled as she yanked her hand back and cut her eyes at him. “That’s a good girl,” he said kissing her quickly and moving towards the door. “This shouldn’t take long, but I’ll need to report in to Michael when I’m finished,” he said rolling his eyes.   
  
“I’ll be around. You know how to reach me,” she said.  
  
He absentmindedly ran his right thumb over his left palm. Underneath his glove his hand was newly healed from where he’d slashed it open for the ritual to call her to him. “I’ll call,” he said, then disappeared, the sound of his wings making her shudder.   
  
“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Meg whispered to herself, before transporting herself back to her throne room.   



	10. Cloud Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alternate universe's Castiel finds that, though the Winchester's destiny was able to change, his own destiny was unavoidable, and Michael stands next to an unexpected ally. In the real world Meg finds herself in a new kind of limbo.

  
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[_I was told that I could fly when least expected._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ouuh7MmsB9c)   
  
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Raziel was waiting for Castiel outside of the old farmers market where they’d chosen to house their rebel prisoners. Castiel knew that Johiel was inside the building waiting on him, and he could hear the grunts of the male prisoner as Johiel beat him. “Raziel, has he learned anything from the prisoners?” Castiel asked.  
  
“Not as of yet. Michael has demanded that you extract the information on where the nephilim and his army make their camp.” Raziel stood with her chin held high, staring down her nose at Castiel.   
  
“You look at me as though you’re disgusted, sister,” Castiel said, feigning hurt.   
  
“You _are_ disgusting, Castiel. You think that some of us don’t know what you do in the dark? You think that we don’t know where your so called ‘talents’ came from? You’re _pathetic_. You’re beneath all of us,” she sneered.   
  
Castiel bristled at the idea that they could know about Meg, but he reassured himself that if they knew who he sneaked off to see and where that they would have already destroyed Meg by now. No, they probably assumed that he was with a human, which, he admitted to himself, _would_ have been disgusting. “Whatever you think I may or may not be doing doesn’t change the fact that this entire world is at Michael’s feet because of me,” he said stepping toward Raziel menacingly.   
  
She backed up a step, but she kept her expression steeled. “You place too much importance on your skills, Inquisitor.”  
  
“Oh? You seem to forget that it was _me_ who assessed the Winchesters as errant, disrespectful, abominations. One was addicted to demon blood and the other was so homesick for Hell that he was having dreams about it. _I_ was the one who sent Dean Winchester back in time to stop his mother from making the deal with Azazel to save John Winchester, insuring that the Winchesters were never born, and _I_ was the one who secured that the battle between Michael and Lucifer went forward as planned.” Castiel backed Raziel up against a tree and leaned forward until he was mere inches from her face, “You, and all the others, should show me some respect.”   
  
“Castiel!” Jofiel called from the door of the store. “I was wondering where you were. Welcome! I’ve been waiting. I always enjoy your work.”  
  
Castiel didn’t take his eyes away from Raziels face, “At least someone appreciates my handiwork.” He straightened and took a deep breath in, before turning and beginning to walk away. Behind him Raziel let out a breath she’d been holding in her vessel’s lungs. She finally allowed her face to show the fear she’d felt. Castiel didn’t have to see her to know that she was shaken, but he needed to be sure. He stopped in his tracks and turned his head to speak over his shoulder, “Oh, and Raziel? If you, or any one else, thinks of following me again to spy on me, I’ll cut the grace out of you, and string you from the trees using your vessels’ intestines. Am I understood?”   
  
Raziel whimpered before muttering, “Yes...”  
  
“’Yes’, _what_?” Castiel demanded.  
  
“Y-yes, sir,” she said.   
  
“Good,” Castiel said, then he made his way into the store to do the job he’d been assigned, never suspecting what the night would hold for him.

  
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In the early light of morning Michael watched the rift close with a _zap_. Next to him stood an alternate, wounded version of his brother. He could sense the rage radiating off of Lucifer, but it didn’t compare with his own. Michael was incensed at the escape of the nephilim and his rebel faction. There were other humans in the world, certainly, but they were tiny in numbers and had no leadership that even came close to Mary Winchester and her surrogate, Jack Kline.   
  
Lucifer growled, his eyes flashing red, but then he breathed deeply and straightened, rolling his shoulders back. He chuckled and turned to Michael “Well, would you look at that? Sammy got me good. I’ll just have to repay the favor when I get back,” he said, smiling.   
  
“I’ve been trying for months to get through to that other world. I have angels stationed in all of the locations where the veil is the weakest and you think that you can get through? Why should I trust you?”   
  
“I know what it takes. It's some blood, some fruit, a glowy rock, and then? Bam!  We step through, both of us,” Lucifer said.   
  
“And _then_?” Michael looked at his brother, wary that this could all be a trap. Still, he could be useful, and Michael could use him.    
  
“And then I get my son, and you get...” Lucifer studied Michael’s expression, trying to decide what he might want, before he finally settled on an answer he thought sounded enticing enough. “Everything else,” he said. Michael’s eyes affirmed his desire to rule, and Lucifer knew he had him. Thunder rumbled overhead, as Lucifer asked, “Are we agreed?”  
  
Michael nodded once. “We are. Now what are the ingredients for the spell?”   
  
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In another dimension Meg paced outside the bunker while Castiel explained why and how she was alive. He’d been inside at least an hour and she could almost imagine the pearl clutching that he’d had to face. She knew that it was a difficult sell, but she was there to help. She’d been gone from Hell too long, and her bond was with Castiel. She couldn’t explain it, but she had to stick by him. When they had returned from the alternate dimension they called Apocalypse World Castiel had been very quiet, and she knew something he’d seen there was bothering him, but she didn’t pry. Now there were a lot of new people they were getting sorted into new lives in their world. Castiel suggested that he would ask Sam and Dean if she, too, could live at the bunker. Meg doubted they would agree to it, but Castiel had insisted.   
  
Thirty three more minutes passed, and just as she was about to hop herself over a few towns to grab a drink Castiel emerged from the bunker, wearily watching his feet as he climbed the steps to where she stood. When he reached the top he looked up to meet her eyes and he sighed heavily and shook his head. “They are obstinate and, at times, hypocritical, but it _is_ their home, and they have the final say. Their answer is ‘no’. You can’t stay here.”  
  
“It’s your home, too, Clarence. You have no say?” she questioned irritably.  
  
“Meg, I stay here on their kindness. There was a time when I wasn’t allowed to stay here, either. It’s just that there is warding and there are security systems in place and you simply aren’t able to dwell within. Physically it’s impossible for you. It’s not as simple as erasing a line in a symbol. It’s built into the bunker and they can’t undo it,” Castiel explained.  
  
“That and they shat identical bricks when you suggested it,” Meg said raising an eyebrow in disdain.  
  
Castiel gave her a pleading look. “We anticipated their reactions for the most part. Sam, of course, seemed more movable, but--”  
  
“But _Dean_ was adamant that I’m going to try to bite the hand that feeds?” she interrupted.  
  
“He suggested that, in so many words, yes. He was also concerned that the new tenants might not be so keen on living with a demon and an angel. Our ilk slaughtered their whole world. I’m starting to make friends with them, but it’s...tenuous,” Castiel said, placing his hands on his hips.  
  
Meg huffed. “Super. So did they have any suggestions besides ‘tell her to go to hell’? I mean, I could keep hopping motels, but I like having a steady hideout. You know that.”  
  
“They suggested the safe house Kelly Kline and I created,” he said.  
  
“ _Oh,_ the house you built for Wendy Darling?” she scoffed.   
  
Castiel raised a hand and then let it fall to his side. He’d known that she would be adverse to the idea. “It’s not a bad idea, Meg. It is warded against many beings, but we could destroy the wards against demons and you could lay low there.”   
  
Meg tried to swallow her annoyance. It wasn’t a bad plan at all, but she didn’t have to be happy about it, even if it made sense. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “It’s a roof and it’s free, so fine.”   
  
“Thank you,” he said, relieved. “I have a hunt to do with Dean, Sam, and Jack. The safe house is in North Cove, Washington. Here’s the address,” he said, handing her a slip of paper. “I’ll meet you there later.”   
  
She shook her head. “They’re never going to get used to us, are they?” she asked.   
  
He walked over to her, stopping when he was a few inches from her. “It will take time, Meg. They’ll come to respect you, as I do. In time,” he leaned down and kissed her lightly, closing his eyes, and when he reopened them she was gone.   
  
He found himself missing his ability to fly more than ever. 


	11. Next to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Dean's decision Castiel retreats to a safe place.

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 __[I got no innocence. Faith ain't no privilege. I am a deck of cards, vice or a game of hearts. And still you, still you want me.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=axS6L0NX7VE)  
  
The wind off the lake ruffled through his hair as Castiel looked out over the water. He stood with his arms leaned against the rail of the deck at the back of Kelly’s safe house, watching the light of the sun fading over the rippling lake. There was something about bodies of water that gave Castiel comfort, and he supposed that was part of why he had chosen this house for Kelly to hide out in, and to keep Jack safe in. None of that had gone to plan, of course. None of his plans ever did seem to go as he intended. The air was starting to turn off cooler as the sun crept behind the trees and hills. To see him there you’d never know the turmoil that was eating him from inside.   
  
He’d stood like this once before, what felt like several lifetimes ago, waiting for Anna to come and meet him so that he could betray her to the garrison. That night it had been the lights from across the river bank, dancing like bright souls in a void, and he’d tried so hard to tell himself that he was doing the right thing. He was following orders. It was the Grand Design, and he was doing what was expected of him. He learned too little, too late, that he was a fool. With Anna gone, no other angel had understood the things he did because they hadn’t seen it in the way that he had. He knew now that the void was just that, and everything he’d once believed had evaporated. Now he stood in silence, just as he had all those years ago, before the stumbles, before the fall. He finally let go of a breath he’d been holding and knit his brow as he shut his eyes.   
  
“Penny for your thoughts,” he heard Meg say as she came up beside him, two beers in her hands. 

He shook his head, not meeting her eyes, but taking the beer she offered him, “My thoughts aren’t worth currency.” He glanced at the label on the bottle before turning it up, draining the whole thing, and setting it down on the rail next to him.  
  
She studied him for a moment. “You know, I have something harder stashed away for a special occasion, but blistering sorrow sounds like as good an excuse as any to get hammered,” she said.   
  
He chuckled, and noticed the surprised look on her face. “What?” he asked.   
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before, not even a little,” she said.   
  
He thought about it. “No, I don’t laugh very often, I suppose. I generally hop from dire straits to tragedy and back again. Not much room for mirth,” he hung his head down. “Still, your dark humor is very amusing to me, and I feel like there’s nothing much else I can do now.”   
  
“In Hell you either laugh or scream. I learned that quick.” She took a big gulp of her beer, and then continued, “You know, the goal of getting off the rack, out of Hell, is so that the pain ends. You turn it around, somebody else gets your share. You’re home free. Except I never was. Hits kept coming. Nobody that I gave my allegiance to ever was loyal to me. I gave everything that I had to Yellow Eyes, Lucifer...Hell, even the Winchesters couldn’t even bother to turn a few stones to see where I’d gone after Crowley got me.”   
  
“I’m still sorry for that, Meg,” he said softly.  
  
She sighed and leaned on the railing next to him. “Bigger fish, Clarence. I get it, the world was ending. Again.” She rolled her eyes and nudged him with her arm, “Anyhow, I kept him chasing shadows for as long as I could. Then--”  
  
“Then you died,” Castiel interrupted. “I ran with the angel tablet and you died at the hands of the demon who’d tortured you.”   
  
“And that’s my point,” she said.   
  
He looked at her, catching her meaning. “You climbed off the rack in Hell, but couldn’t get away from it.”   
  
“Hell was life. What I said to you before about missing the apocalypse because it was simpler was because...I was told where to stand and what lines to say and so it all was so easy. Then I met this angel in a basement,” she said smiling.   
  
“Oh, and I’m sure that he was very impressive and righteous,” Castiel said sarcastically.   
  
“He told me the truth,” she said.  
  
“It was something that hadn’t been afforded to me. Only seemed fair, one soldier to another.” Castiel took her beer out of her hand and drank it back, ignoring her playful protests. “Dean loved beer. I never understood the appeal of it before, but I think I’m starting to get it,” he said staring at the bottle.   
  
She stood there waiting for him to continue to speak, but instead he turned and made his way through the French doors opened onto the porch and into the cabin’s living room. She followed him in just in time to see him flop down on the couch, raking his hands through his hair, mussing it up. “Now, there’s the angel I know and--” Meg said, clamping her mouth shut over the end of the sentence. “You’re always prettiest when you’re a hot mess.”   
  
A look of confusion crossed his features, and he cut his eyes in her direction. He considered how she looked. She’d been resting better here, he knew that. Her hair was still wavy, but not so wild, her eyes were brighter, and she’d found a new, purple, tunic style top and some jeans in a shop down the road. She stood in the doorway now with last light of the evening sky behind her. His aching heart caught in his chest.   
  
“What?” she asked looking down at her clothes and then behind her to see what he was staring at.  
  
He held out his hand toward her, “Come here.”  
  
She arched and eyebrow, but then smiled sweetly. She walked over and sat next to him on the couch, curling her legs underneath her. “You ready to talk yet?”  
  
He snaked his left arm around her waist and pulled her a little closer. Finally he breathed in deeply, and said, “Dean said ‘yes’ to Michael.”   
  
She straightened her spine and leaned away from him in shock. “Tell me I didn’t hear that right.”  
  
He raised his right hand and dropped it in a half-hearted shrug. “Lucifer had Sam and Jack, and we didn’t know where. Lucifer had taken Jack’s grace, and was super charged on it. Sam and Jack were totally at his mercy.”  
  
“Lucifer has no mercy,” Meg said, with a shudder.   
  
Castiel took her left hand in his and ran his thumb across her palm. “I know,” he said his voice almost a whisper.   
  
“So, Michael was just there?” she asked.   
  
He nodded. “He was working with Lucifer. They came through the rift together. Apparently, he and Lucifer had a deal that Lucifer would get Jack, along with all of his powers as a nephilim, and Michael would get everything else.”  
  
“Which was slight of hand because Luci gets the better end of that deal,” she said shaking her head.   
  
“With Jack’s powers Lucifer would be able to debilitate Michael, and rule the cosmos, yes. Incidentally, Michael had been weakened by an attack from Jack, and couldn’t face Lucifer in the vessel from the other world.” He looked up at the ceiling as though he could see through to the stars. “So, Dean told him that he would agree to be his vessel if Michael vacated as soon as Lucifer was neutralized, and as long as Dean controlled the vessel.”   
  
“He didn’t really believe that Michael would hold up that deal, did he?” she furrowed her brow in confusion.  
  
“I think he really did, Meg,” he said turning his head to look at her. “I don’t understand why or how he would have thought that. Maybe it had been too long since he’d faced an angel in full power? I tried to talk sense to him, but with Sam and Jack both in peril, he saw no other option,” Castiel said. “He did defeat Lucifer, but Michael took control and...”  
  
“And he winged out of there,” Meg finished for him. “Sam and Jack?”  
  
“Injured, graceless, but otherwise unharmed physically. Emotionally and mentally they’ve both suffered great losses. Sam has lost his brother. Jack has not only lost his biological father, but also one of the people he considers a father figure. They’re in turmoil right now,” he said, looking down trace the lines in her hand with a finger.   
  
Meg sighed deeply, “You should be with them.”   
  
“I can’t right now,” he said, bitterly.   
  
“Why can’t you?” She tilted her head and frowned, beginning to feel angry.   
  
He shook his head, “No, it’s not like--It’s not that they wouldn’t allow me to be there and try to get through this with them. It’s because I don’t deserve to be.”  
  
“You can’t possibly blame yourself for this?” She turned on the couch as much as she could to face him, “Are you high? Dean made a choice.”   
  
“I know that, and I know that I did what I could, but don’t you see, Meg? I always fail all of you. Over and over I let the people I love down,” he said in a rush. “I’m no use to anyone. I’m at half power, and now Michael walks the earth. We’re headed for war. All out war. That’s who Michael is. We are in no way ready. We’re going to die.”   
  
“Well, then this time we’ll die together,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “All of us. You, me, Sam, Jack...All of us. We’ll fight that bastard with everything we’ve got.”   
  
He pulled her hands away from his face and placed them over his heart. “My brave Meg. Ready to run into hell again?”   
  
“Baby, I never left.”  



	12. Me and Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael surveys his new kingdom.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_[Not everyone can be like me and Michael. The only problem is forgetting which side you're on.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=apsaGEuWcJw)_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

He took another sip of his espresso as he surveyed the coffee shop. Espresso was bitter, and he liked the way that his vessel’s heart pounded in his chest after the eighth or ninth one. He also enjoyed the looks of concern the baristas gave him when he ordered more than what a normal human might be able to withstand. Every blood cell and organ in Dean Winchesters body was coated in Michael’s angelic grace and, though it took a little bit extra for Michael to feel some chemical effects, he found that he enjoyed the sensations.   
  
This coffee shop in particular was located in Albany, New York. He preferred the quiet bustle of these towns. They seemed, to him, like an ant hill that someone had kicked over, and all of the little creatures inside rushed around to repair and recover. They were all so blissfully oblivious that there could possibly be angels walking among them. It was such a stark contrast from the world that he’d just come from where the entire human race was actively trying to fight against the angels. They’d all been so foolish. Thousands of years of angels pulling the universe’s strings and managing it to make sure things went smoothly and these humans thought they had a choice in obeying?   


That wouldn’t be an issue here, he knew. He saw in Dean Winchester’s memories that humanity had even watched angels falling from the heavens, live on their televisions, and had excused it away as a freak meteor shower. This universe was absolutely ripe for the picking. The angels that were left here were so desperate for leadership and guidance that most of them had latched right onto his presence like a life raft. Some still seemed unsure but he assured his brothers and sisters through their mental connection that he had a plan and Heaven would be safely put to rights.   
  
Michael already had all of the ingredients that he would need. The blood of a holy man had been easy to come by. All he’d had to to was find a devout man of the cloth and put on a show. As soon as the bishop had seen Michael in his glory he’d been willing to give him all the riches and relics in his possession, and even offered to slit his own throat. Of course, it wasn’t necessary, but Michael let him do it anyhow. Then there was the fruit from the Tree of Life. That had proved slightly more annoying, but he just slaughtered the whole kit and caboodle with one wave of his hand. It truly was impressive the power he had now that he had his Sword. He’d never imagined it possible before. He’d brought the Seal of Solomon with him from the other side, and he had plenty of archangel grace stored up.  
  
He was ready now. He’d been taking his time, enjoying studying this new world and he decided he’d spent enough time in observation. He stood from his table and straightened his coat. The bell on the door dinged as he made his way out onto the street, observing the people passing by. Humanity needed angels to order their lives, and the angels needed to be ruled. In the blink of an eye he stood in Invictus Village Park, in front of a sand box with Metatron’s Cube drawn inside. He scanned the park, noting that people seemed to avoid this place. It was human’s selective sense of self-preservation that kept them away, he supposed. He could sense that the portal had been sealed off, but that meant nothing to Michael. He waved his hand over the symbol and the lines there shone in electric blue.   
  
A cloud kicked up, like a miniature thunder head, and when it dissipated an angel stood before him. She stepped forward and raised her head in greeting before saying only his name, “Michael.”   
  
“Hello, Naomi. We meet again. Well, in this world anyway,” he said with a smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. She was a subordinate, and as such she didn’t get to know his true mind.   
  
“We’re all very relieved that you say you have a plan to keep the lights on. I’m curious to know what that plan might be.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stood in a casual way.   
  
Michael considered her words and her body language carefully. “You’ve been too long without solid leadership in Heaven, that’s clear. You don’t get to question me, child,” he said sternly.  
  
Naomi stood straight and folded her hands in front of her, seeming to sense just what he was referring to. “I only meant that Lucif--”  
  
“Lucifer was broken and weak,” he interrupted. “I am at my strongest, I have my Sword, and I have knowledge that will rebuild Heaven and bring Earth back into our control. Do not question me again. Is that clear, Naomi?”   
  
Naomi seemed suitably set back into her place. She lowered her gaze to the ground at Michael’s feet and softly said, “Yes, sir.”   
  
“Good. Now, shall we?” He gestured toward the symbol at the center of the sand box. Naomi hesitated for only a moment before turning and stepping inside, a whirlwind kicking up around her as she was enveloped in clouds. Michael stood, wind whipping against his clothes and hair as he looked around the playground once more, then up to the sky. He laughed softly to himself, feeling like his destiny was set in stone. Somewhere, deep down inside Dean screamed in rage.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
_[There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away. They haunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FNCnX7ozIoQ)_  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam Winchester leaned against the bar’s old jukebox as the opening strains of Thunder Road began to play. His father John had always loved the song, and he’d passed that love down to Dean. Sam couldn’t count the nights that they’d drive down some no-name highway with all of the windows down in the Impala, with Dean singing the lyrics as loud as he possibly could, radio turned up almost too loud. Sam would sing along, but Dean seemed to feel the lyrics. It was the only way that his brother really escaped. There was alcohol and there were women, but music was Dean’s healing balm.   
  
Now, as the song played loudly over the bar’s speakers he mouthed the words, fighting back tears. His brother was lost, and there wasn’t any deal he could make or any spell he could concoct that would bring him back. No demon or angel could help them now, and God was completely out of the picture. Sam had stopped praying, knowing that this prayer would never be answered. He pushed off the machine and walked to the bar, ordering a double shot of whiskey and a beer, then taking it over to the table that Jack and Castiel were seated around. He shot the whiskey and then looked from Castiel to Jack. They looked as weary and confused about everything as Sam felt.   
  
Finally after several seconds Jack said, “I feel like this is all my fault.”   
  
“We all feel that way, Jack,” Sam said, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “But it’s not anyone’s fault, not even Dean’s. Michael knew just exactly what Dean wanted to hear, and we were up shit creek. Dean did what he thought he had to do.” Sam took his hand away and rested his arm against the table, took a drink of his beer, then looked pointedly at Castiel. “ _No one’s_ fault. It’s just...What happened. Okay?”   
  
Castiel nodded once and took a sip of his own drink. It seemed like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders and Sam remembered back to a time that Castiel had told them that he’d been on a bender. Castiel must have caught on to the question Sam didn’t ask from the way he looked at him. “I’ve been drinking at least three bottles of gin a day. I know, it’s bad. Indra was right, though. If you just keep drinking it eventually knocks the edge off.”   
  
Jack looked between the two men he considered to be father figures and looked at the beer in his own hand. “With respect, I feel like this isn’t doing much good. I’m mourning as you both are, but I feel like imbibing alcohol is just...Putting a bandage on a stab wound.”   
  
Sam scoffed. “The thing about a wake, Jack, is that you’re doing just that. You have to do something when you’re helpless against loss, and sometimes that means drinking yourself to sleep for a night,” he said.   
  
“We haven’t given up all hope,” Castiel said. “Meg is convinced that we can find a way to fight. She’s out searching different locations that Azazel had showed her. These places hold spell books and relics that could help. She’s always been one for a cause, especially lost ones.”   
  
“She’s a _demon_ , though,” Jack said, lowering his voice, though they were the only ones in the bar.   
  
Sam shook his head. “She is, but...She’s got an oddly big heart. Who knows why? I believe she’s really with us on this. She’s helped us save the world...Twice now, technically. I feel like that qualifies her for some trust,” he said, catching the bartender’s attention and making a circular motion with his hand to order another round.   
  
Jack shrugged his shoulders. “If you say so. She unnerves me a little.”   
  
“That’s just because you’re born of humanity and celestial intent. Your instincts are that she’s a threat to be neutralized or escaped,” Castiel said, nonchalantly.   
  
“ _You_ aren’t repelled by her,” Jack said, pointing at Castiel, confusion knitting his brows.   
  
“No, I am absolutely _not_ ,” Castiel responded, before clearing his throat.   
  
Sam would have chuckled if he could let himself feel joy. He let his thoughts wander away from the conversation at the table as he stared out the windows of the bar to the streets that were illuminated by orange city lights. The bartender set down another double shot and beer in front of him and he took the shot, only briefly turning away from the view outside the window. He found himself staring at the road itself, imagining taking off over the pavement and riding into another fight, his brother by his side. Over the jukebox the song had changed to The Eagles and Sam found himself making a vow along with the lyrics.   


_One of these nights, in between the dark and the light, coming right behind you, swear I'm gonna find you... _  
__


	13. You Don't Mess Around With Jim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the heroes try to find anything they can that might help them defeat Michael, while rescuing Dean, Jack gets a call from a friend from the Apocalypse World. She believes her home to be haunted and needs the help of Jack and his family. What they find might just turn the tides.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[ ____](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TajUFGstkk4)__[And everybody say, “Jack, don't you know? You don't tug on superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger, and you don't mess around with Jim.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TajUFGstkk4)__  
  


\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I _know_ , Jack, I hear you. I just don’t think it’s a case,” Sam said as he dusted off the spine of an ancient book. Meg had told them about the collapsed corridors of the bunker on the other side of the hill, and they’d been going back and forth carrying boxes to the active part of the bunker.  
  
“What isn’t a case?” Castiel said walking in on the conversation.  
  
Jack tipped a book into a box as he said, “One of the girls from the other world said that she thinks that the house she’s renting a room in is haunted. I thought we could check it out, but Sam doesn’t think that it sounds like _‘our thing’_.” Jack punctuated the end of his sentence with air quotes and Castiel smiled at the familiar action.  
  
“There are no cold spots, she hasn’t reported seeing anything strange, just that things are going missing. She lives in a house with six other boarders, and she says that the doors don’t latch well sometimes,” Sam shrugged. “Just sounds like she needs to buy a lock box for her stuff.”  
  
“Couldn’t we just _try_ to help her? Karen’s my friend and she’s really afraid. Isn’t that why we hunt?” Jack pleaded.  
  
Castiel put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, “Jack, I understand that you want to help your friend, but unless she’s in danger, it’s best that we focus our efforts on finding a way to stop Michael without harming Dean.”  
  
Jack hung his head. “I understand. I just feel like I’ve made promises to help these people, and I took care of them while we were in Apocalypse World, and I just want to keep my promise to them. I want to finally keep a promise to _anyone_ , really. All I ask is one quick trip, just to make sure,” he said looking from Castiel to Sam.  
  
Sam blew out a breath, seeming to consider it before saying, “Okay. One very quick scan of the house and then we come back here and get to work. We have tons of books and files to go through, and it’s gonna take all of us. We gotta deal?”  
  
Jack smiled brightly. “Definitely. Deal!” he said, then he ran out of the room.  
  
“ _Jack! Don’t go without a_...box,” Sam called after him, but too late. He looked around at all of the items still piled up on the table and sighed. “We really don’t have time for a detour.”  
  
“We don’t really have time to scan through these tomes, but we _have_ to make the time for that. What’s a few more hours?” Castiel stacked two boxes that were full of books and scrolls and small caskets of whatsits and carried them out the door, leaving Sam to finish packing his box and follow suit.  
  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
Back in the library of the bunker Meg, Mary, and Bobby were sorting out the things that the boys had brought up into piles. They’d worked in silence, except that occasionally Bobby would look up at Meg and open his mouth as if he was going to say something to her, but then he’d clamp his jaw shut and turn back to the papers he was organizing. A few times Mary had raised her eyebrows at him as a signal not to kick the hornets nest, and he’d grumbled or shrugged his thoughts away.  
  
The steel door to the bunker groaned open as Jack hurried inside, followed shortly by Castiel and then Sam. “Three more boxes?” Bobby said surprised. “What _else_ is down there? _Narnia?_ ”  
  
“Narnia is a fictional kingdom in a children’s book. I don’t think that it could be in the chamber,” Castiel said as he walked over to place the boxes he carried on the table next to Meg.  
  
She smiled and nudged him with her elbow, “Clarence... _Joke_.”  
  
“ _Right_ ,” he said. “This is at least almost all of it. There are still some containers that we have to go through. Some things simply might not be salvageable.”  
  
Sam nodded. “When Rowena gets back she’ll know what to do with some of the things we found in glass containers, and she might be able to identify some of the objects that didn’t have labels. Well just have to see. She should be back tomorrow.”  
  
Mary flopped back into the chair behind her. “Well, that will be very helpful. Wasn’t she with Charlie?”  
  
“Um, yeah, she was. Apparently, Charlie found a hunter friend. A very _special_ hunter friend,” Sam said raising his eyebrows. “She’s supposed to be helping Charlie get adjusted to our world. They’re...researching.”  
  
“ _Researching_ ,” Meg said, arching a brow. “Is that what kids are callin’ it these days?” She looked Castiel up and down and a faint smile passed quickly over his lips.   
  
Sam scoffed. “Hey, if she can be happy for a while before things go south, then I’m happy for her,” he said.  
  
“ _And_ before things go south, Jack has a case he wants us to investigate,” Castiel said, turning to look at Jack.  
  
“How bad is it?” Mary asked.  
  
“It’s not very bad yet, but it’s Karen,” Jack said.  
  
Mary nodded once, “I see.” She looked to Sam and said, “Karen isn’t one to blow things out of proportion. She was a lot of help in the other world. It could be something.”  
  
“Okay. We’re gonna go and do some scans, I’m gonna check out the history of the place she’s staying in, see if there are any town hall records on the land, any news reports. We’ll head out first thing tomorrow. Sound okay, Jack?” Sam asked.  
  
“Sounds good, I’m gonna get some rest,” Jack said. He told everyone goodnight and briskly walked off toward his room.  
  
“I think I’m gonna turn in myself. I’ve got a tension headache that would kill a buffalo,” Bobby said, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked away.  
  
“I think I stress him out,” Meg said once he was out of earshot, leafing through a book on top of the pile in front of her.  
  
“He’s been through a lot,” Mary sighed looking up at her, “but for what it’s worth, _I_ appreciate you being here. You don’t have to be, but you are, and that means something to me. Thank you.”  
  
Meg looked shocked. “I, um...You’re welcome. Nobody’s thanked me before,” she said quietly.  
  
Sam cleared his throat and looked away from the scolding look his mother was giving him. “Ah, yeah, well...We should all call it a night, yeah?”  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  


The next morning Jack, Sam, Castiel, and Bobby rolled up in front of a two story craftsman style home. “It looks _damn_ cozy, Jack,” Bobby said. “Hell, _I’d_ live here, ghosts or not.”   
  
Sam chuckled, and as they made their way up the walkway Sam filled them in on the history of the house. “It does look nice, but it’s been remodeled in the last three years. It had been abandoned for a while because--and get this--the people who lived here before said that their things were going _missing_ ,” he turned to Jack and smiled. “It’s definitely a pattern. You were right.”   
  
“Cool,” Jack said. “Well, not cool that stuff has been going missing, though.”   
  
Castiel squinted as he looked at the second story windows. “Something seems off,” he muttered.   
  
“I couldn’t find any history of deaths, no tragedies. The house was originally built in 1948, and it’s had four owners. Original owners passed naturally, and all other tenants and owners are still alive.” Sam shook his head, “I’m guessing poltergeist.”   
  
“Hey! There you are!” a girl’s voice said.   
  
“Karen!” Jack jogged up onto the porch to give her a hug. She looked to be about the same age as Jack, though Jack was much younger. “We’re going to look around and see if we can help.”   
  
She let them all in and they split up; Bobby and Sam going upstairs, and Jack and Castiel looking around the downstairs and the basement. “Do you think it’s a poltergeist, Cas?” Jack asked after they’d been through the first level and then entered the musty basement.   
  
“I’m unsure. From what I know of poltergeists they tend to manifest where a powerful evil presence has once been, and that would correlate with what I’m sensing here.” Castiel turned to Jack, “Do you sense anything?”   
  
Jack closed his eyes and knit his brow, standing still for a moment before huffing in frustration. “No, I feel nothing. That means my grace isn’t replenishing, doesn’t it?”   
  
“Jack, there’s a lot that we don’t know about nephilim grace. It could replenish over a longer course of time, or it might not replenish at all, and you’ll simply be human,” Castiel answered. “I understand how you must be feeling right now. I lost my grace and had to live as a human and it was...very difficult. We’re _all_ going to help you, I hope you know that.”   
  
Jack nodded solemnly, snapping his head up as something crashed just behind them. They rushed toward the sound to find Meg surrounded by fallen picture frames and glass jars.   
  
Castiel and Meg exchanged confused looks. “What are you doing here?” Castiel asked.   
  
“What am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here?” she countered.   
  
“This is the house Jack’s friend lives in, upstairs. We think it’s a poltergeist moving things around,” he said.   
  
Meg laughed shortly, “It’s no poltergeist. It’s _Jim_.”   
  
Jack’s mouth fell open. “It’s _Jim?_ Who’s _Jim?_ ”   
  
“Jim is what he calls himself. His true name is Nebahaz. He’s the biggest, dumbest demon to ever walk the face of the planet and this is where he came through.”   
  
Castiel raised his finger, “That makes what I’ve been sensing clearer. But the missing objects?”   
  
“Jim’s idea of funny. I’ve been doing some digging in the demon dens to try to find any information I can on what Michael might be up to or a way to stop him. I finally found one of my kind with half a brain and they sent me here, saying that Jim had swiped some ancient stone or something that could be useful to us.”   
  
“A stone?” Castiel said, hope tinging his voice.   
  
“A _stone_ with ‘funny squiggly writing’. Castiel, it could be another tablet, and Jim has it, by all accounts.” She looked around the room for anything that could lead to access to the house, or something that could be a door to a secret cellar. “He’s hiding in here somewhere, unless he’s popped out. But be mindful; he always chooses the biggest, meat-head meat suit that he can. You won’t be able to miss him if you do see him.”   
  
They moved around the room, looking over and under things for the stone or some secret passage, but were finding nothing. Meg felt along the walls, and Castiel dug through crates. Not long after they began the search Bobby and Sam joined them and they filled them in on what Meg had found out.   
  
“So, he just takes things because he thinks it’s funny?” Sam scoffed. “That’s his idea of ultimate evil?”   
  
“Jim is the stupidest demon Lucifer ever created. He never assigned him any jobs, never gave him any kind of responsibilities because he just screwed them up, and not even in a deadly way. He was just a shit demon. Eventually we lost track of him. I guess he wandered off chasing rabbits or something, I don’t know. But he’s potentially got a tablet and if that’s true, it could mean big things for us, Sam,” Meg said kicking up a rug and finding a trap door in the floor. “ _Yahtzee_.”   
  
They pulled it open, the smell of earth and must floating up to meet them. Meg climbed down first, followed by Castiel, and then Bobby. Jack made to follow him down, but Sam held him back. “Jack, I know that you want to help, but...” Sam trailed off and thought carefully for a moment about what he wanted to say. “Until you get your grace back, you could get really hurt, and we love you, buddy. We need to try to keep you safe. How about you stay up here and keep a lookout for us?”   
  
Jack seemed crestfallen, but he agreed. “I understand. Please, be careful, yourself. Meg said this demon always chooses large people to possess.”   
  
“I’ll be careful. Thank you, Jack,” Sam said, before climbing down into the crawlspace.   
  
A few moments of tense silence passed as Jack waited for any sign of a struggle or his family coming back up into the basement.   
  
“Jack!” Karen whispered from the stairs, making him jump.   
  
He put his hand over his heart, “Oh, Karen! You scared me! Hey, we think we’ve just about solved it the problem.”  
  
“Oh, really? How?” she asked coming down to stand near him.   
  
“Well, it’s a demon. His name is Nebahaz, but he goes by Jim, and he’s pretty much just a petty, stupid thief,” Jack laughed.   
  
“Wow,” Karen said looking down, seeming to be perplexed. “’Stupid’ I’ve heard, but _‘petty’_? That _sucks_ ,” she pouted.   
  
Jack narrowed his eyes. “What?”   
  
“You know, I know I’m not real smart, but I am _not_ petty,” she said, pulling back a fist and slamming it into Jack’s jaw sending him flying backward. “I just like to have some fun, play some tricks. I hop around from meat suit to meat suit. It’s fun! Then I hopped into this gal, just to see what her story was, and she knew all this stuff about you. You are my final chance to get back in good with my father! I hand you over and he’ll think I’m the _best_ , _smartest_ demon _ever_!”   
  
Jack grunted and leaned up on his elbows, “You really _are_ dumb, Jim.”   
  
Jim put Karen’s foot on Jack’s chest and pushed him back down. “Oh, yeah? How so?” he sneered, twisting Karen’s pretty features.   
  
“Lucifer is _dead_. Michael _killed_ him,” Jack growled.   
  
“You _lie_.” Jim leaned down over Jack, “You’re a _liar_.”   
  
“Also,” Jack grunted, “I’m the _son_ of Lucifer.”   
  
Jim yanked Karen’s foot back and stumbled a few steps away from Jack. “That’s not true. That’s _impossible_.”   
  
Jack slowly climbed to his feet. “Are you...Are you Quoting _Star Wars_?”   
  
“What’s _Star Wars_?” Jim asked, beginning to cower away from Jack.   
  
Jack grimaced. “Wow, Jim. I’m technically only one year old and I know what _Star Wars_ is. Jeez,” he said, shaking his head. Then a thought occurred to him, that if Jim was afraid of him, then he could try to get him to tell him where the stone is. “Where’s the stone, Jim?” he asked menacingly, stepping forward slowly raising his hand to Jim’s forehead as he’d seen Castiel do to smite other demons. Jim didn’t know that he couldn’t smite him.   
  
“Stone? Wh-What stone?”   
  
“The stone with the funny carving in it, Jim. _Where is it?_ ” Jack hissed, sounding very much like his foster father.   
  
Jim backed away, trembling until he backed into a support beam. “Aaah! Fine! Don’t smite me, please, don’t smite me! It’s in my hole!” Jim said, pointing his hand down to the trap door.   
  
“ _Where_ in your _hole?_ ” Jack said grabbing Karen’s arm, being careful not to grab too tight.   
  
“It’s next to my _bear_ , Sunshine! _Aaah!_ ” Jim squealed, before flowing out of Karen’s mouth in a squealing, swirling smoke. Jim swirled up and out of a window.   
  
“ _Sunshine?_ ” Jack said, amazed. He knelt down in front of Karen where she’d dropped to the floor. “Hey...Hey, Karen. Are you okay?”   
  
“I’m...What just happened?” Karen asked. “Why am I in the basement?”   
  
Jack sighed, relieved that she was okay. “I’ll explain later. Just sit tight for a second.” He hurried over to the crawl space opening and shouted down to them where they could find what he very much hoped was a tablet.   
  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
“It’s a tablet,” Castiel said that night as they all sat around the table in the library staring at the rock. “What it says, though, we’re incapable of knowing.”   
  
“We just have to find a prophet right?” Meg asked.   
  
Sam looked pointedly at Castiel, before clearing his throat. “Uh, yeah, that might be a little difficult.”   
  
“Why?” Mary asked.   
  
“In an attempt to retrieve the spell from Donatello’s mind...He was a prophet, and he is now gravely incapacitated.” Castiel stood up straighter, only turning to meet Meg’s eyes when he felt her studying him curiously.   
  
“What did you do, Feathers?” she asked, sounding a little impressed.   
  
“I’m not proud of it, but it was necessary. Needless to say, another prophet will not be called because Donatello, while he is in a vegetative state, he’s not dead. Another prophet won’t be called.” Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose.   
  
Meg looked around at everyone at the table. “’Kay, so I off the guy. What’s the pearl clutching?”   
  
“Meg--” Sam started.   
  
“No, she’s right,” Mary interrupted.   
  
Sam’s mouth gaped open like a fish out of water for a moment before he finally made sound. “Mom, we’re talking about killing a man.”   
  
Mary shook her head, “And? He’s brain dead, Sam. All Meg needs to do is just...Unplug him.”   
  
“But what about his wishes? His living will?” Sam argued.   
  
“Did he leave any?” Mary asked.   
  
Castiel tilted his head, “Technically, he has no soul to speak of, so...”  
  
“So his body is an organ farm. I forge some organ donation papers, pretend I’m family and we take him off support,” Meg said, surprising herself.   
  
“It feels wrong,” Bobby said, finally speaking up.   
  
“Damn right it does!” Sam exclaimed, pounding the table.  
  
“ _But_ it’s the right thing to do,” Bobby said, finishing his thought and looking at Sam. “Boy, I know that this guy was probably your friend at one point, but he’s just a corpse with batteries. That’s not life, and he’s not coming back. Let him go. And when he goes, we’ll find the new prophet. Then we might have a chance at getting your brother back.” Bobby’s tone was gentle but firm. “What would Dean do if it were _you_?”   
  
Sam swallowed hard, clenching his jaw. “That’s not...” Sam took a shuttering breath.   
  
“Sammy,” Mary said, reaching across the table to grab his wrist.   
  
He looked up to see tears standing in her eyes that matched his own and he lowered his head again quickly. “ _Do it_ ,” he whispered.   
  
Meg was already halfway up the stairs when Castiel turned to follow her. “Where are you going?” Jack asked, quietly.   
  
“He’s in this state by my hand. I’ll be there when he passes.” No one spoke as he made his way out of the bunker, and when the steel door shut behind him everyone jumped just a bit, bumping the table, making the new tablet rattle as it wobbled back and forth, then settled.    



	14. Little Black Submarines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new prophet has yet to be called. Castiel sits on pins and needles, knowing that time is of the utmost importance.

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_[“Oh, can it be? The voices calling me they get lost and out of time.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DhKAh4RJM0Q)  
_

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A few days had passed since Castiel and Meg had gone to the hospital to take Donatello off life support, posing as Donatello’s niece and her husband. Meg had knowledge of how living wills worked from her time pretending to be a nurse in the mental hospital that Castiel was a patient at for some time, and so she was able to mock up some documents that ensured that his organs would be donated to people who needed them. Meg had put on an air of sadness and she’d accepted the hospital staff’s condolences graciously, but Castiel felt on guard the whole time they had been there.   
  
One of the nurses tending to Donatello had noticed how stiff Castiel seemed to have been and she’d smiled kindly at him and said,”We all deal with grief in our own way. It’s okay to be angry with the circumstances that took him from you, but he’s at peace.”   
  
When the woman was out of earshot Castiel had leaned down to Meg’s ear and said in a hushed voice, “Can we please leave now?”  
  
“Feel like you’re standing on his grave, Clarence?” She’d smirked at him, but then she’d taken his hand and lead him out of the hospital to the 1955 Ford Thunderbird they’d borrowed from the garage in the bunker. Meg had left the top up, but she’d rolled the windows down and they’d ridden back to the meet the boys in silence.   
  
Now, Castiel brought his thoughts back to the present. With most of his brothers and sisters dead and gone there wasn’t much chatter over Angel Radio. Occasionally he’d pick up a random blip of communication, but mostly it was silence. It unnerved him. There had been another time, when he was human, that he couldn’t hear what the angels were saying and he’d felt alone. He felt alone now, but the feeling was worse. The silence meant that he was one of the last of his kind. It also meant that if and when a new prophet was called that it would be harder to pick up his location from chatter between his siblings.   
  
He stared at the tablet on the table in front of him. “You know, the least you could do is vibrate,” he said to the rock. He sighed and covered his face with his hand. Meg was helping Rowena in the kitchen with a tracking spell to see if they could possibly find the new prophet, if one would even be called. Mary and Bobby were out getting food, and Sam had taken Jack down to the firing range. He thought that it would be useful, if Jack insisted on hunting with them, for him to learn the ins and outs of gun safety and marksmanship. Castiel couldn’t say that he disagreed with him.   
  
“Hey,” he heard Meg say as she walked into the library, Rowena not far behind her. “We think we might have found something.”   
  
Rowena nodded. “It took some time, but I think that I managed to tweak the ingredients of the tracking spell to find the next prophet,” she said, wincing slightly as she twisted her fingers together.   
  
“I’m getting a sense that there’s a complication,” Castiel said. 

  
“The additional ingredients won’t be easy to come by. We need the bone of an angelic vessel and...” Rowena said trailing off.  
  
Meg raised her eyebrows at her to continue, but Rowena shot her a desperate look. Meg made a noise of frustration and said, “We need the blood of the previous prophet.”  
  
“The bone of an angel might not be hard to locate, but Donatello was cremated. Kevin Tran was given a hunter’s funeral,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “There _is_ no prophet from which to collect any blood.”   
  
Meg shrugged slightly, but then her eyes went wide. She turned her head quickly to look at Castiel and said, “Unless there _is_.”   
  
Castiel frowned in confusion for a moment before he caught on to the same thought. “Donatello’s organs were donated. It _would_ be a gamble, but it might work,” he said as he stood. “We should go as soon as we can.”   
  
“But how will you know who has the organs? That sort of operation is anonymous, is it not?” Rowena asked.   
  
“Yes, it is. The medical records would be sealed, but I know a pretty skilled hacker.” Meg pulled out her phone, selected a contact, and then held the phone to her ear.   
  
Rowena raised her eyebrows. “I hope they can get here with some haste.”   
  
“As do I,” Castiel said. “We have to find the new prophet first. If Michael can get to him then any hope we might find in that tablet will be lost.”   
  
Meg put her hand up. “ _Easy,_ okay. He’s local.”   
  
“How local?” Castiel asked.   
  
“Hey, Sam,” Meg said arching a brow and smiling at the mild exasperation on Castiel’s face. “We may be able to find the prophet. We need you to hack some medical records. Are you around?” She listened for a second and then said goodbye. “He’s on his way up.”   
  
Castiel kit his brows together. “You could have just said it was Sam,” he said. “He  _is_ proficient with technology. This is good. If this works, we may have a chance,” he said.   
  
“Well, you get me the ingredients, I’m going to be preparing the rest of the spell,” Rowena said, heading back to the kitchen.   
  
Castiel turned and picked up the tablet. He looked at Meg briefly, before turning his attention back to the object in his hands. “Seems like you and I were here before, doesn’t it?” he asked running a finger over the etched symbols on the stone.   
  
“Yeah, something like this,” she said leaning against the table and looking up at his face. “At least you aren’t talking crazy.”   
  
“I was incoherent. What I couldn’t accurately convey was that I had found a strange sense of peace. I was euphoric. Sometimes, yes, my thoughts would be confusing and it was hard to make sense of things, but I knew what I was saying. What I was doing. I just wanted to suspend myself and the people important to me in that peace. Unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way,” he turned and met her eyes. “I meant the things I said.”   
  
“There you are, not puttin’ up, again,” she said softly.  
  
He considered her for a moment, realizing what she was referring to. “My apologies,” he said leaning down to catch her lips with his own.   
  
“Hey, gu--Oh,” Sam said, walking into the library with Jack. “Sorry to...interrupt?”   
  
Meg chuckled, and walked back toward the kitchen. “Make it up to me later, Clarence,” she called over her shoulder as she turned down the hall.   
  
Castiel set the stone down on the table, and looked to Sam. “Rowena believes that if we can get the bone of an angelic vessel, and the blood of someone who was a prophet that she can modify the locator spell to find the new prophet, if they’ve been called.”   
  
Sam held his hands out. “Wow. That’s...that’s amazing news. But, Cas, where are we going to get the blood of a prophet?” Sam asked   
  
“Or the bone of an angelic vessel?” Jack added.   
  
“The bone of an angel’s vessel should be relatively simple. Many angels have, um...died,” Castiel said quietly, regarding Jack carefully. He didn’t want to pry open healing wounds by mentioning Lucifer or his vessel in front of the boy. “The blood of the prophet will be a little more complicated. We had Donatello’s organs donated. We may be able to try and extract blood from one of the recipients.”   
  
“It could work. I’ll hack into the hospital’s records and see what I can find,” Sam said sitting down and setting to work on his laptop.   
  
“Once we find the prophet, what then?” Jack asked Castiel, pulling up a seat next to Sam.   
  
“They read the tablet, tell us what kind of tablet it is, and then hopefully they can find something in it to stop Michael,” Castiel told him.   
  
“Okay,” Sam said, “Looks like they could only use one of Donatello’s organs.”   
  
“Well, he didn’t live the healthiest lifestyle,” Castiel said.   
  
“Huh, looks like it was his heart,” Sam said. “That’s kind of amazing. His cholesterol had to be through the roof.”  
  
“They say there are ordinary miracles,” Castiel droned, rolling his eyes.  
  
“ _And_ I have the patient’s information. Name’s Rodney Packerton. Looks like he’s in a hospital in Topeka.” He wrote down the address and information on a notepad, then tore the paper off, and he and Jack headed for the garage where the Impala was parked.   
  
Castiel stood for a moment listening to the silence on Angel Radio. He sighed and began walking to the stairs down to the garage when one word seemed to sizzle across his connection to the other angels.   
  
_Prophet!_  
  
Castiel began to run _._


End file.
